Letting the Dog off the Leash
by Harley Eve
Summary: The Joker's harlequinn, his dearest toy, is dead. So now the question is... who's going to suffer for it? Rated T for language and violent actions... sadistically violent actions.
1. Faint

**Faint**

This was bad... even compared to all of the other tight spots Harley had seen, this was pretty bad. Two of the Joker's men were dead (she'd cry over them later), their last man was a wimp (which is probably why Joker had changed his name to Cur...), and Joker's cell had broken when he dove for cover, so no back-up would be coming.

This damned deal... that damn mob rat! Joey always seemed off, but she never thought his fear of the Joker would be less than his love of cash. Now the remaining three were taking cover behind some crates in a warehouse that SMELLED LIKE FISH! Harley made a mental note to-

Harley screamed as she lowered her head as bullets suddenly breeched her defensive crate -fucking automatics. Joker stood up and shot at the thug who had gotten through Harley's crates. It sounded like The Joker got him before he knelt back down to reload.

"Mistah J!" Harley yelled over the bullets.

"What?" he snapped back in his normal volume, still over powering the bullets.

Cur shot a few tentative bullets from Harley's gun. **WHY** had she given him _her_gun? That's right, his gun had been jamming lately and she thought she'd be fine with her bombs.

Speaking of bombs... she dug in her bag for a grenade, pulled the pin, and threw one over her crate and covered her ears before it exploded, causing enough damage and distraction for Joker to safely take out three thugs before the bullets began again.

"These crates smell like FISH!" she whined.

"Well Poo," he coddled as he reloaded his gun again, "why didn't you just crawl over here when you WASTED YOUR LAST BOMB!"

Harley was taken a back and she reached over to touch her bag of tricks. Shit. He was right. It was empty. But hadn't she packed eight? No, seven for good luck –like it was doing her much good. Where had they all gone? She pouted as she tried to think over their enemies' bullets –The Joker and Cur now being smart about their bullets.

The first bomb went on their way over here. She was in an especially good mood and had thrown it up in the air. Joker had scolded her for it, not wanting to have to outrun the cops on their way to the meeting. She had calmed down a bit, not wanting to make trouble for her Puddin.

One.

Unfortunately when they passed by an alleyway where she and The Joker had gotten hot after an especially successful heist, she couldn't help but throw another bomb up in the air. Joker had pulled over the car and had gripped the steering wheel so hard she thought poor Teddy would need to replace it later. Worse, he might have drag her into a nearby alley and slap some control into her. Fortunately he just snipped at Teddy to take the rest of her bombs away. He took away four but she kept one just in case.

So that was two...

When they got there, the place gave her the creeps as they walked down a concrete hallway into an office in the back. When the mob thugs first pulled out their guns Teddy threw a bomb at them, killing them all in one shot.

Three.

Teddy had thrown one more to clear the way for them. Teddy and Buddy -who were the fastest runners out of the five of them there- had thought it was enough to tackle through the mayhem, but Joker pushed Harley behind the crates and dove behind some metal bins just before the shooting started again. Cur dived behind the barrels a split second before the shooting from pure luck.

Four.

Teddy would have two more in his coat pocket...

"Boss! We gotta get outta here!" Cur shouted, hugging his gun to his fat chest. His eyes were wide with fear.

"SHUDDUP!" Joker yelled at him before he fired a couple of shots at their enemies.

"Bu-but BOSS! There has to be another way out! A back door or, or something!" he offered up desperately.

"Cur, SHUT UP! Do you think we can just reach the car before they reach us?" Harley yelled at him. God damn it all. Why didn't **HE**have her bombs while Teddy had her gun? Then again, Cur wouldn't have used the bombs to save their lives.

"IMA TRY! I, I need to get outta here Ms. Quinn! I, I gotta get out!" He started to get up and run, but Harley wasn't having it.

If he ran, those thugs would run after him thinking they all were retreating. With only one gun, they'd have no chance.

Harley reached inter her bag for her weight filled rubber chicken. She grabbed it, aimed, and threw it straight at his head. It was a direct hit and Cur made a comical face right before he collapsed back on the floor before he had even gotten off of his knees.

Joker cackled loudly. "Love how fast you shoot them down Harls. Now just ricochet that chicken off of the last four guns and we're out," he joked. Harley smiled.

Four? There were only four? One gun and two grenades... it'd probably more than enough. She started thinking she could get them out of here. The thought made her grin ear to ear, which made the Joker frown suspiciously.

"Harley...?" he questioned darkly. She could tell he knew she was going to do something risky.

"Just give me some cover Pud," she snipped at him and got ready to sprint to Teddy for her grenades.

Joker growled as he started rapidly shooting at everything that threatened his little harlequin.

If even one of their bullets so much as grazed her... not even the Devil himself was going to keep the Joker from slitting their stomachs open and letting their own stomach acids eat away at them.

The Joker's black heart clenched at the thought, and at its strangeness, he paused.

* * *

><p>It seems Harley's in a bit of a pinch... lets see how this all turns out... although from the summary I'm sure you all know where this is going.<p>

Please review! And to those who have seen this somewhere before... yes it's the same story... I'm just really stupid and deleted it while I was trying to delete another story I have -_- All of my chapters will be uploaded soon. :)


	2. But It's Better if You Do

**A/N:** So this is in the Joker's pov some time after the last chapter took place. How long? Only I know. ;)

* * *

><p><strong>But It's Better If You Do<strong>

The Joker groaned as he got up, swinging his leg over the bedside with one thin arm laid over his thighs and the other hand holding his head. Dear God it hurt.

He frowned. It would seem someone gave him a serious ass kicking... but then he smiled. If someone gave **him **an ass kicking than someone must now be handicapped. But sadly, he had no recollection of what he did... or anything between now and getting up in his own bed some morning.

He took his arm off of his head and placed it behind him so that he could lay back and looked around.

He was in a solitary confinement cell in Arkham. Not his usual one, he was upset to realize, but a solitary confinement cell all the same. This one was a lot cleaner than his usual cell, he noted. There were no blood stains from the faux tantrums he throws when they put him in these things –which is why they stopped and just kept him in lock down in his cell –so all the walls were the same white brick walls rather than the blood speckled walls he was used to.

He truly did hate being in them though. He hated being in Arkham period. The damned place was pretty dull, but he found a bit of pleasure in just sitting in his cell and watching people through the Plexiglas. They would either ignore him completely and he would analyze them a bit -he was no psych major like Harley but he figured himself a damn good judge of character -or they would glance at him and try to ignore him, letting him bask in the fear he could create in people just by lying in his bed doing absolutely nothing.

In solitary confinement however, the only attention he got was from the guy who pushed his food tray into the cell: he had 7 seconds to grab his plate and the guy would watch if The Joker grabbed his plate before then so he could close it right away. If he waited past the 7 seconds, the orderly would close the hatch and his food would fall to the floor.

The Joker watched the hatch for a while. Harley had told him that they feed the solitary inmates at 9:20 am, 2:30 am, and 7:45 pm. From now to then, he had no idea what time it was. Whenever there was an especially long lapse of time between meals, that was his night and that was his morning. They only left him in here for about a week, so he should be fine.

He got up and paced a couple of steps to try to clear his head when he noticed the word "GONE" frantically scratched into the paint, but not through to the brick behind his bed, high up on the wall, almost invisible to an untrained Arkham eye. Great, some previous occupant was a real crazy. Maybe it was one of Crane's victims. He had a serious way of fucking things up for anyone. And right now, that word was getting on the Joker's nerves.

The Joker yawned and stretched out his back. He was gonna be in here a while, he might as well think about his next move.

-  
>Something was off. Something was very off. The Joker has been given 24 meals since he could remember and each was being given in equal intervals.<p>

Weirder yet, he hasn't heard Harley fighting the guards to come visit him or break him out. That usually happened sometime after the first two or three days. But The Joker was completely sure it's been longer that.

Heightened security? No, Arkham wasn't one for improvements. Was Harley in solitary confinement? No, she wouldn't be letting him sleep. She hates being in dark places all by herself. Were they keeping her preoccupied? No. When he and Harley break out, she shows him all of her "recreational drawings", which involve him 90% of the time.

The other 10% involved one or more of their "friends"... excluding fucking Nigma of course. The Joker tolerated Isley because she was a woman and she took care of Harley when he couldn't stand her anymore, everyone else because they were too unfeeling to care for her, but he would chop anything with Nigma on it up to pieces, cut off one of Harley's pigtails, and then ask fucking _Nigma_ where all of his _fucking __**digits**_were in Arkham. He told Harley so himself when she had shown him something _Riddles _made for her. She didn't sleep after that, afraid for her pigtails.

The Joker chuckled darkly. Poor Harley, always with him but he always had something over her head. He frowned. But he wasn't about to forgive her for just leaving him in here.

He shook his head angrily. Over the time he's been in this box, Harley has been invading his mind over and over again. It started when he was trying to think of another way to pit ole Harv and Penguin against eachother. The Joker had started wondering why he never thought about using Harley to start a little triangle with him pulling the strings considering their lust for women.

But the more he had thought about it, the more it had bugged him. Both were deformed, and while Harley didn't mind them platonically, romantically she'd have a problem. The thought of Penguin's hands on her had made him gag. And the thought of what clothes Dent would put on her had made him growl with jealousy.

He had dismissed the idea right after, but now that The Joker thinks about it that's when his thoughts started going towards Harley. Usually his plans didn't revolve around her. Like the thought of making her act like she was in real danger to catch Batman off guard had come up... or having the hyenas threaten Penguin's penguins, or get her to use her psychology major to act as some mobster's therapist while she was leaking info to the Joker.

He shook his head again. No, no more Harley. His plans shouldn't be revolving around her. She was more of an Ace of hearts he kept under his sleeve that everyone knew about so they steered away from his table.

He laughed. She would hate that being under his sleeve for a long time. Sure she'd be close to him and useful, but shed quickly become claustrophobic.

He shook his head once more and rubbed his temples. No. No. Enough.

He had more important things to worry about than why he's thinking about Harley. Some better questions were: Why has he been in here so long? Why hasn't Harley come get him? Why can't he remember anything?

Right then, a food tray was slide -not shoved -into his food slot. Joker stared at the tray for 6 seconds, ready for it to fall, but it never did. It just rested there.

He stood up and looked at the tray. Slop and water... with some pudding he's seen other inmates eat.

The Joker first chuckled, then suddenly blew up into a full fledged roaring cackle.

Drugs? They were trying to drug him? They were so blatantly trying to drug the _Joker_? Or had they been drugging him this whole time but couldn't fit anymore pills into his food and water?

The Joker laughed louder. They planned on keeping him here forever... his laugh became lighter as he couldn't help but think of his revenge on Arkham for wasting his time... for keeping him bored... for hindering his plans... hell just to add to it, for keeping him away from his harlequin.


	3. Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

**Desperate times, Desperate Measures**

The Joker gripped his stomach as it growled angrily at him. He rolled over in his cot in misery as the pain intensified slightly. He hasn't eaten anything in three days, and hasn't drunken anything in one. Water seemed to make the pain worse anyways. It seemed that his fucking stomach didn't understand that if he ate any of Arkham's shit he'd be knowingly taking unknown drugs. And what would that do to his reputation?

"The Joker is too pussy to go a few days without food to get out of fucking Arkham"

Fuck that shit. This pain was nothing. He'd get out of here easy... with or without Harley's help.

That fucking whore. Leaving him in here for God knows how long. She was obviously too weak to be with him. He should get a real partner... maybe he'll make something to force Bane do everything he wants...

Wait, wait. Partner? She was his toy.

He grimaced. With that little slip of the mind he'd even called Bane a partner. Hell, no one would be his "partner"... the correct word for them would be "puppet". He chuckled. Puppets. Doing everything he wanted... well... unless he pushed her too hard... in which case she has a psychological break down and may try to kill him.

It usually happens when he's abused her and left her to think on it for too long. Or he just plainly pushed her too far and then he continues to rub salt in it.

He frowned. Not knowing how long he was in here presented another variable... was Harley going to try to kill him when she came to get him? That would present a problem... while she'd be more than willing to kill anyone that came near them she'd also hinder his attempts to get out... it would probably be a better bet to get out alone.

He turned on his back and looked up at the ceiling.

It still nagged at him though. Why hadn't she come? Was she somewhere else? Had they decided that locking him up was necessary for her recovery?

Did they think that if he got out he'd go to get her? Did they really think he cared enough to risk his chance to get out? There have been plenty of times where he's broken out without her. Each time she breaks herself out within two months... huh that might be why.

If they keep her here, there's always that reminder... but somewhere else they could get her to focus on herself. And what about ole Joker?

They leave him in this box with nothing to do BUT think about Harley. Bastards. He didn't even know where his harlequin was.

_**Gone**_

The Joker frowned and turned away from the wall. That word had been getting under his skin. He'd thought about scratching it away but he didn't want to deal with the paint chippings.

He sighed softly and started tracing circles on his sheets. He was feeling lonely actually. While he hated people, normal people mostly, he did enjoy striking fear into their hearts or creating some sort of mind game. It was just boring in this box.

Harley had been fun... "Harley..." he whispered, "Where are you?" He growled at himself and turned back onto his back. His eyes flew straight to the word _**Gone**_.

He was about to stand up and scratch the word away when his food slot opened.

His fury blasted and he shoved the tray back and started banging his fists on the door. "LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! LETMEOUTLETMEOUTLETMEOUT LET. ME. OUT!" he shouted.

He took a step back and took some deep breaths, letting his anger seethe out just to be replaced by anticipation. Maybe they'd open the door and take him back to his cell. When he talked to one of the other inmates he'd find out what happened.

Or he'll just pull their eyes out of their skulls and run.

But the slot was just filled by another food tray with a cup of pills rather than pudding. The Joker just lay back on the bed and rolled over. Closing his eyes against the word _**Gone**_.

"Did you finally figure out you're better off kid?" he mused. "It took you long enough... Seven years with me is more than enough for anyone... but god damn it you have fucking horrible timing. When I get out of this, WITHOUT YOU, I'm coming after you."

He started wondering how he would do that... he needed someone to at least open the door. But they obviously were doing everything they could not to.

Why would they? If he were dying? Maybe... but they'd probably cuff him and he didn't want to deal with restraints when he's up against bayonets and guns.

He needed to be conscious but he needed them inside.

It needed to benefit them. So the act needed to disturb them. Sound? No they'd just wait it out. Sight? They couldn't see him. Touch? He didn't have anything to start a fire or an annoying vibration. Smell?

Smell. He has something that rots -the food -and while the staff had plugs the scent would disturb the inmates and wouldn't that be a ruckus.

See? He doesn't need anyone to help him and certainly not some nutty girl. Stupid harlequin. She's gonna wish she had helped him.

* * *

><p>The Joker had his nose and mouth covered. A pile made of about twenty meals lay in the corner to his left. He had worried that the food wouldn't give off a strong enough odor, but by the ninth one that thought went out the window.<p>

He had eaten a few but he tried his best to avoid it. The smell killed his appetite anyways.

With twenty meals he had no doubt it was a matter of time, so he has been simply waiting in the corner, just far enough that the door wouldn't hit him.

But this waiting game was becoming very monotonous very fast. A bomb would make things much more expedient... Harley had bombs. She had fun with them too.

His eyes automatically flew to the word **_Gone_** but he just closed his eyes.

"C'mon Joker... don't lose your marbles now."

He laughed. "Well sir, I didn't think I had any left.

"Well, you probably had a couple.

"I would have never known... ha! Who would have ever thought the Joker had marbles?

"She did."

He growled and opened his eyes. His eyes flew to the word /Gone/ again. Damn it. It was staring at him. Constantly reminding him of the fact he had been abandoned.

He grabbed his head. No. No. Nonononono! This damned cell wasn't going to break him! That damned girl wasn't going to break him! She was nothing! Unimportant! Worthless! She was dirt! She was dust! She was dead! She should be on the streets! She should be in a gutter!

SHE SHOULD NOT BE IN HIS MIND!

He jumped up with the full intent to scratch the damned word away. Even if his fingers bled, every letter would be forever gone!

But as he began to scratch, he felt a jolt. He tried to ignore it but the more he scratched at the wall the more uneasy he felt. The more he began to question.

Why this word? Why that name? Why were those two ideas connected? Why couldn't one be without the other?

_Gone_._ Harley_.

_Harley_._ Gone_.

He stopped.

Harley... _gone_... Harley's gone. Harley is gone.

Of course she was gone! She was... she was...

He collapsed on his cot as the world tilted. He held his head as his mind went white.

Where was Harley?

* * *

><p>Excellent question Joker... Where is Harley? To be answered in the next few chapters...<p>

Please review. :)


	4. Fur Cue

**Letting the Dog off the Leash**

**Chapter 4**

The Joker uncovered his ears and let out a laugh. "You don't have to try so hard to _blow away _the competition Harls!" the Joker called out.

No reply. Just a soft feminine groan. Harley must not have gotten far enough from the grenade blast. How careless of her. The Joker jumped onto the wooden crate to look at the damage Harley had done. But he hadn't expected what he found.

Harley lay on the floor about three yards away from him, eyes shut in pain as she clutched her stomach. "Harley?" the Joker stepped down from the crate went to kneel next to her.

"Mistah J…," Harley sobbed out, hiccupping softly at the end. The Joker pushed her arm away from her stomach, meeting a slight resistance from Harley, but one stern look and she obliged. But even if she hadn't, the Joker would have known it. The blood was soaking through her costume, darkening the red and shining the black.

The Joker curled his lip at the sight, his eyes becoming homicidal. It frightened Harley, but the expression was quickly replaced by a stony apathy.

"C'mon Harls," he growled as he slid an arm under her legs. Despite his attempts to be gentle, she gave a soft but sharp whimper, pushing the Joker closer to the edge.

"Mistah J..." she groaned through her sobs, leaning into him, "it hurts."

"I know Poo, I know. Just relax. Daddy'll get you fixed up, good as new." Harley nodded silently and laid her head on his shoulder. Her breath quick and soft against his neck.

As the Joker was about to stalk out the door, he heard a groan. His eyes shot to the side, and there he was.

The piece of shit that shot his harlequin.

The bastard was shot in the shoulder, bleeding profusely, and seemed paralyzed by fear when the Joker's eyes captured him. He must have known. He must have known that he had deeply wronged the Joker… and he must have known there was a high price for such a slight.

The Joker stalked over to him and by the dog's face, the Joker must have looked like the Devil himself.

The animal tried to scramble away but the Joker trapped its leg under his, and grinned as he gradually forced more and more weight on his leg until there was a wet snap of the man's fibula. The Joker watched at the worm cried out in agony, holding his thigh as the pain shot up his leg. The Joker's soft chuckle quickly turned into a full blown cackle as he watched the pitiful worm rolling on the floor in pain.

The Joker stepped on his victim's chest to keep him still and hold his attention. "Move," he growled darkly, "and I break the rest." And with that he walked away.

He knew the cripple would try to get away, but it didn't matter. He would suffer later.

For now, he focused on getting to his car. Hopefully those vultures didn't get the car. But they probably… he was right. The tires were slashed.

"Puddin?" Harley whimpered worried.

"Don't worry about it Poo, we'll find something else," he soothed sternly. Harley nodded and started to close her eyes but the Joker readjusted her sharply. "Stay awake." he ordered. Harley bit her lip and nodded as the Joker went in search of a car.

This wasn't normal. Even when she simply nicks herself with a knife she freaks out. She should be screaming and wailing in pain, whining that he should express more concern. He'd simply ignore her, but that wasn't the point.

The Joker suddenly smiled. The rats' car was a little ways down. He was sure they hadn't slashed their own tires in case they needed to get away. He walked quickly to the car and gently set Harley down on the hood. She seemed reluctant to let go, but the Joker briskly untangled her from him.

He growled as he stepped in front of the driver's side window. This was taking too long. He looked back at Harley for an instant. The front of her costume was torn and covered in blood. He counted 3 bullet holes around her stomach. Lucky, but not lucky enough.

After unlocking the doors, the Joker gently carried Harley into the back seat –taking notice of the amount of blood on the windshield –and handed her his jacket. "Put press this down on the shots," he ordered as he went to hotwire the car.

"But Pud-"

"**DO IT**!" the Joker barked back. Harley squeaked and pressed his best jacket down on the wound.

The Joker slid into the front seat, finding the keys in the ignition. He would laugh at their stupidity later. For now he just turned the car on and drove as fast as he could. The Joker's body tensed up every time they were going to hit a bump and he would tighten his grip on the wheel when Harley would groan in pain. Fuck, the car was too slow and everyone was in the way.

"If only I had a GOD DAMN GUN!" he shouted, wishing he had someone else in the car so he could throw them out.

"Mistah J?" Harley squeaked. The Joker looked back, unconcerned with the main street intersection. People in Gotham we're too chicken shit to keep going, but they needed direction and a horn won't do it. Gun shots are the only thing the people of Gotham listen for.

"Why..." the Joker said almost amazed, then a cruel smile began to grow which made Harley smile happily, "that's my girl."

God bless mob rat stupidity and pride.

The Joker took the beautiful Uzi, hit the gas, put his head and gun out the window, and started shooting. Cars started giving them a road right away.

The Joker cackled at the irony. When the Joker had good intentions all of Gotham got in his way. But now thy the Joker used a gun, they all bent to his will. They only complied to the flames of hell, but when heaven beams them a bit of light they steal it and reflect it right back at their God with a nice "fuck you" note.

Maybe that's why this city breeds so many crazies. Maybe that's why Arkham is so popular. The crazies know something everyone refuses to accept.

"Mistah J!" Harley cried out. Doc's drive way had just passed them. The Joker decided to drive through the fence up to the old warehouse where doc kept his office. The Joker damn near drive through the damn wall, but remembered the fucking doctor had a habit of refusing services to anyone who fell out of his favor.

He stopped right at the door and honked. He looked back at Harley who looked scared and tired.

"Harley!" he shouted at her angrily. She woke up a bit but winced just as the doctor opened the door and came out.

The Joker jumped out and opened the back door at Harley's feet. "Doc, she has 3 bullets in her stomach and she won't stop bleeding! You have to stop the bleeding!" the Joker shouted frantically. Even to him it sounded desperate and from the side glance the doctor gave him he heard it too. The Joker composed his threatening attitude and felt him bristle rather than whimper. As much as he... cared for Harley, she wasn't worth losing his main card.

The doctor leaned in the car and looked at the wounds. "Carry her in. I'll take the bullets out and see what I can do, but Mister Joker-"

"**I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANY BUT'S**!" the Joker shouted harshly. His furious face melted to a look of despair as the Joker's analytical mind put together the doctor's next words. If the Doctor didn't take Harley now…

The thought brought back the hole in his chest that had gotten Harley... shot... not killed... shot. "Just... fix her doc."

The doctor nodded and scurried inside. As he picked up Harley, the Joker thought he saw a break in the doctor's composure out of the corner of his eye.

"I think you scared the doctor Mistah J," Harley whispered hoarsely when she was in his arms. He wondered if she was whispering to keep the doctor from hearing or because of all he blood she's lost.

He disregarded it for the time being. But he couldn't disregard the smell that hit him. Harley had always smelled sweet, like cotton candy and pancakes, and he enjoyed it most of the time... but now that sweet scent was mixed with the metallic scent of blood. He didn't like it, but he'd live with it for now.

He smiled charmingly at her. "Well sweets, I'm the Joker. I'll do what I need to get what I want. You know that."

Something in Harley's eyes danced as they walked into the dark warehouse, but the Joker frowned. Something was missing from that annoying face of hers, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was, even as he put her into the pale lighting of the doctor's table.

"You'll need to wait outside Mister Joker."

The Joker was about to pull his gun out and tell him if he goes outside, the doctor's brains are coming out with him, but then he felt a hand on his. He looked down and found Harley smiling softly at him.

"Don't worry about me Mistah," she said in her normal cheerful tone, "Doc hee-ya's gonna fix me right up." She whimpered softly once the doctor began to dig for the first bullet. He could feel her hand tense on his, but they didn't grip onto him. He could do nothing but watch as her face twisted in pain; nothing but damn near crack his teeth. When the doctor pulled the bullet out, her face laxed and she smiled again… despite the tears in her eyes. "See? Ain't nuttin' to it Mistah J." He frowned at her.

Since when does she have a mask? Since when is she patient with pain? Since when does she think _she_ supports _him_? He didn't like it. If she were in better shape he would have slapped her. But he just tensed as she motioned for him to go, and he stomped out as she whimpered again.

"Puddin?" she called out weakly. He turned and glared at her. "I had fun tonight... I always have fun with you Mistah J."

The Joker bristled a bit more and stalked out of the warehouse. Once outside, he leaned against the door and squeezed his eyes shut. He massaged the corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and sighed, releasing all the hot hair he needed for show.

"You're going to regret that Harls... one way or another, I will pay you back for this night..."

Once the door closed Harley let down her cheerful facade and felt the tears fall. She's lost too much blood. She could feel it... or rather her feelings were becoming weaker.

She was leaving the Joker... her Joker... she didn't want to go though. Life with him was so much fun. He brought Hell's party into Gotham... So now Hell itself would just mean being all alone.

She winced again when the doctor dug out the last bullet.

"It's a miracle you're still alive Miss Quinn. Then again, it's a miracle that you're alive living with the doctor."

_He ain't that bad doc. Mistah J's a bit rough, but he takes care a' me._

"Oh really dear? Then why are you here?" he asked mournfully.

Harley remembered this conversation... It was years ago but... it was still crystal clear. She had been shot close to a major artery and the Joker didn't want to take the risk of letting one of his boys take the bullet out just in case they pushed it in the wrong direction. It was her first time coming to see the mob doctor.

She couldn't help but smile. _My Mistah J needed me. Whaddja want me to do? Sit and watch? ...Anyways, it's no more n' than a scratch._

"You were pretty frantic when Mister Joker brought you in."

_It so he'll worry. But it lets him know what's going on n' that I'm still strong enough to throw a fuss_

The doctor wiped at his eye and put the gas mask over her mouth so he could start the surgery. "Forgive me for correcting you Miss Quinn, but it does not seem like Mister Joker cares..."

_Nah he doesn't now, but if I don't whine there's something really wrong and he'll know it... and he'll care. He'll take care of me._

But how sad... I only got to see him concerned like this once...

As Harley's eyes began to close, she noted the dark figure she saw at the window. She smiled and couldn't help but wonder who had come to take her...

Then there was no more red, or green, or purple. Just Black.

**A/N**: Our dear little Harley has died... how will the Joker take her death?


	5. The Last Three Letters

The Joker's lost his dear little Harlequin. How will he cope?

The first part is told in the pov of the jerk who shot Harley, and the rest is by the Joker.

Song: "The Last Three Letters" by Alesana  
>Dearest love, I hope this message finds you well As these endless thoughts drip from my soul Every single word secretly paints a fairytale (Every single word secretly paints a fairytale of when we) Of when we will melt into one... Eyes (I am so scared...) Forfeit sight to the pain (So scared...) Cold scalpel's steel whispers tear at my very core As I cling to my memories of you (I need you with me)<br>Were the last words that I wrote for you, enough to tell you That in my death, the light that shone through my painful darkness Was a blinding vision of your eternal smile? It's me again, Is it me, or am I wrong to be concerned? Will the beauty of your pen Ever cross my eyes again? Was this all a lie? Why? She understands right? that I'm not coming back... (...I never even got the chance to see her face...) (...or to touch her hair... and now it's too late...) (...Who would have thought my life would end up like this)

* * *

><p><span>The Last Three Letters<span>

The picked me up off the side of the road. Jackson was supposed to call them when we killed the Joker and his group, but instead they got a call from me telling them to pick me up after I heard the car drive off.

Then I started to crawl. I got that clown bitch good. When she died, he'd come back. Hell, I had heard he just keeps her as a pet, so for what felt like 3 hours I was afraid he was waiting for me to move, letting her bleed out on his car, just to kill me.

But right now I was in a limo, getting my leg treated in front of my boss Giovanni. He wasn't happy, but he kept his composure until he got a call. Then I noticed his hand tense on his phone.

" Thank you Barto," he replied coldly before slamming the phone shut. "Who died?"

"Everyone else in our group sir. I was the only survi-"

"I know that dumb ass. But we're still missing the fucking clowns. According to one of my guys cleaning up the scene only one of those demon jesters, who you APPARENTLY didn't kill on the spot, is still out there," he said in a rage. But then he took a breath and asked in a calmer tone, "Now what I want to know is, which one is still alive?"

I swallowed. This wasn't the welcome back I was expecting. One of those saboteurs was dead. Isn't that a bit of a victory? "Well I- uh..."

"SPIT IT OUT!"

"The Joker!" He pulled his gun and shot me in the leg through my cast. I howled in pain and grabbed my thigh. I couldn't stop screaming in pain. Once I got it down to loud groans I heard his phone snap shut again. I

"Now look here kid, that there was the Joker's girl. You understand me? His GIRL. Of all the..." he slid his finger through his hair in exasperated. And then he lowered himself, hands together like he was about to explain the concept of drug dealing to a retard. "Now, if you had shot and killed the Joker, we could handle the girl. She'd be mad as hell, she's used to being a pawn, not the player. She'd be reckless, but predictable.  
>"Now with the Joker however, he's been in our game for a few years now. If his girl dies-"<p>

"He won't care," I argued through my teeth.

My boss chuckled. "The fact that the girl is still alive is proof enough that he cares. He's shot everyone else that's crossed him and all he's given her is a good slap."

"And a nice trip out the window..." I mumbled.

"SHUT IT!" he snapped pointing the gun at me. "Or I'll turn you into a nice bloody present for the Joker."

* * *

><p>It was in mid-cackle when the Joker came back into his mind. He was shooting into the filthy streets of Gotham. Stupid fuckers. They were all running away when he was just playing. His main toy was gone now.<p>

Harley... his little harlequin... was gone.

The Joker fishtailed it and spend back to the little warehouse he and Harley kept.

"Boys, I'm back," The Joker called in solemnly. The remaining two members of his gang were watching tv. It looked like something family friendly... wouldn't Harley have scolded them if it wasn't? They must have changed it.

"What happened to you Boss?" one asked, panicked which got the other one to jump up off the couch to see him. They both looked at him with a slight panic.

As the Joker walked towards the stairs, he sensed it coming, but decided to push it down. "Deal went badly boys. Joey was a mob rat. Hell, I barely got out..."  
>It was still coming as he walked up the stairs. Too bad it didn't come on his decision.<p>

"And... Quinn?" the younger one asked.

The Joker sighed and pointed the automatic in their general direction. "She's gone boys." and pulled the trigger.

He continued shooting into the room after they stopped moving, laughing maniacally as the "house" was turned into shreds in about a minute.

Eventually the bullets ran out and thee was just an empty clicking. The Joker growled and continued to pull the trigger before throwing the damned thing onto the floor with a frustrated hell.

_Mistah J!_

"Harley?" the Joker spun on his heels and saw her standing at their bedroom door not looking happy at all with her hands on her hips, putting more weight on one leg.

_Look at this mess! I'm working hard to give us a home and you have to tear it to shreds!_

The Joker rubbed his eyes with his thumbs and forefinger in a frustrated motion.

"Not now Harley I'm not in the mood," he groaned, turning his back on the hallucination to get a drink downstairs.

He felt her mood change instantly, reacting to his. _What's wrong Mistah J? _He felt her damn near dance down the stairs after him as he silently sulked to the kitchen, ignoring the bodies and chaos. _Mistah J? _He felt her hands about to caress his shoulders.

"**HARLEY DON'T TOUCH ME**!" He yelled as his arm sliced through air. He sighed angrily. He half expected his hand to make contact with her head. He even felt the ghost of her weight fight his hand before he sent her flying...

But he wouldn't slap her... She wouldn't fly across the room and get up holding her cheek with tears in her eyes... just to come back and console him at a less dangerous distance... but still a lot closer than anyone else would dare get to him. That stupid bitch.

He walked into the small kitchen with his head low, just to see Harley sitting on her knees on top of the counter in her negligee.

_What's wrong Puddin'? Don't cha wanna ride on your Harley? Vroom, vroom!_

The Joker sighed, grabbed her face and threw her back. He felt his heart clench at the old feeling of his hand on her face.

God damn his insanity... he smiled momentarily before shaking his head and opening the bullet-holed cabinet.

He growled, pushed the broken bottles away and eventually found a saved bottle of whiskey.

* * *

><p>Looks like our dear Joker's mind is slowly snapping... not that it wasn't snapped before but now not even he's able to control it. I'm going for a contradiction for this next part. He misses his dear harlequin, but why would the big bad Joker admit it? Even to himself? But some feelings can't be supressed 'll find their way into your mind... one way or another.<p>

Please Review :)


	6. Forsaken

**A/N: **So the insane Joker is left alone with his thoughts and emotions... but the heart can only be denied for so long before the mind obeys it or rejects it. Which will the Joker choose? I used the song "Forsaken" by Seether and "Forsaken" by As I Lay Dying

Seether:The same sweet game Your halo is aflame Feel my heart race and breathe a sad sigh Let me wash away And let go of the pain Just look away And turn a blind eye I'll never believe in you again I'll never forgive those things you said My only release is gone and dead I'll never forsake myself again. So hold me down If I feed I'm stronger I don't feel no longer

As I lay Dying: Our selfishness consumes us Until the whole world is not enough Forgive the day that I erased That I erased your name, that I erased your name For it's the memory of me that will decay I know you are the forsaken Somehow we are the ones who feel alone I know you are the forsaken Somehow we are the ones who feel alone

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><p>I couldn't believe this. They had ACTUALLY decided to use me as bait. Giovanni was expecting a call from the Joker for me, but just in case he had everyone on high alert and looking for him.<p>

No one was sure how this would turn out though. Usually when someone killed his men, the Joker would use that as an excuse to hit us back sevenfold... just for fun.

This time, Giovanni wasn't taking any chances. He has me tied up to a chair like a fucking pig and promised complaints would be met with a beating. Those fucking assholes... it's not like I could run away. Both my legs were snapped and one leg was shot. Not to mention the bullet hole in my shoulder. It'd be a miracle if I could ever walk again... it'd be impossible for me to get away now. I can't even crawl, much less stand to run away.

But when I brought this up with Giovanni I got my first good beating since I ran away from home.

Dammit all... If only I had taken the shot for the Joker. Now than I think about it, why had everyone stayed focus on the Joker?

Was I the only one that thought he wouldn't care?

"Hey!" I shouted at the guy near the door, keeping watch. Not that they needed him to. I wasn't going anywhere.

He ignored me.

"Ey!"

Nothing

Shit. I really was nothing but bait. The fuck-head wasn't even looking at me. Was this how our hostages felt? A useless fury and annoyance? No. Fuck them. They were already dead. He had a chance… no matter how slim.

"Now what? You guys wait for him to come and pick me up? You fuckers! I thought I was working for the mob! Not an army of pussies scared of a fucking clown!"

He looked at me, walked over and punched me on the side of the head with enough force to push the chair over. I cried out in pain when the impact moved my legs, shooting the worst kind of pain up my leg and into my mind.

"Watch your mouth kid," was all he said before going back to his post. I glared at him as he walked away, then let my head go limp. Hopeless.

The Joker was coming, and I had moved.

JxMxJxMxJxMxJxMxJxMxJxMxJxMx JxMxJxMxJxMxJxMxJxMxJxMxJxMx JxMxJxMxJxMxJxMxJxMxJxMxJxMx JxMxJxMxJxMxJxMxJxMxJxMxJxMx JxMxJxMxJxMxJxMxJxMxJxMxJxMx JxMx

It wouldn't dull or fade.

The Joker took another gulp from the bottle... but the scene... in the doctor's office wouldn't fade. Hell, the damn whiskey was somehow making it worse. Against his will, his mind went through what happened. Some parts were a blur but her smile... her voice... her weight... and her **GODDAMNED TOUCH AND SMELL**! It was all so clear...

He threw the bottle away and buried his face in his hands... then pulled back and looked down at his hand. The hand she fucking touched to hold him back with the sweetest of touches...

**No**.

He took the lighter out of his pocket and flicked it on.

He admired the flame... tilting it this way and that... but the flame always pointed up. He wondered if that's why fire sent everything it touched up. He cackled at the thought, then proceeded to wave the flame under the part of his hand the bitch had touched.

He gritted his teeth, tensed his muscles and focused. He'd long since learned to ignore the urge to toss the flame away... to savor the smell of cooking flesh… and to savor the pain of his frying nerves blocking out all other pain.

His theory was if he killed off the nerves, he wouldn't remember Harley's touch. Just this pain.

The Joker growled and tossed the lighter away and ran upstairs to the bathroom. He didn't pause to look at the bed, or the reluctant pictures. He just stormed into the bathroom. He knew Harley kept all of the medical supplies well stocked. He tore open the medicine cabinet and the grabbed was the alcohol.

He bit off the cap and poured it over his charred skin. He gritted his teeth to keep his voice to a growl but by time he was half way down the bottle he was yelling.

When the bottle ran out, dropped down to his knees, holding his wrists over the sink, still growling.

_Mistah J?_

Goddamn it. He could even imagine her nervous face. She'd just broken him out of Arkham two months ago. She knew his violent temper, but still stayed with him. But she had never seen him in pain... _Wha-cha doing so... _He could hear her sharp gasp and felt her eyes start to tear up. Why was she tearing up? He didn't know.

"Go back to bed Harley," he growled, tightening the grip he had on his wrist which sent a new wave of pain up his arm.

_But Mistah J..._

"I SAID GET OUT!" he shouted closing his eyes tightly. He denied himself. He denied himself the touch that would cause him more damage than a fire or knife ever could. The touch that took 3 months not meet with a slap and two years not to pull away from.

And all that practice would be for nothing.

But he didn't move when he heard the floor creek when she stepped in. When she realized he wouldn't, she opened the door a bit more. And when he still didn't move she stepped in. She was smarter back then. She left the door wide open for an easy retreat. Later she would value his privacy over her safety.

_Mistah J...?_

He said nothing but watched the ground as she kneeled in front of him. He felt a light touch on his arm, gently pulling his arm away from the sink.

He wanted to pull away and **smash her head against the sink**, but curiosity got the best of him. He looked at his arm and found her holding his arm with one hand and very lightly sliding her fingers up and down his arm with the other.

She sighed. _Puddin'..._she leaned down and kissed his bloodied arm and come back up with her lips painted red with blood.

Such a gruesome sight... yet she seemed so comfortable with it. She kissed his hand a bit more gently... right where he had burned it. He growled. This fucking bitch... he's gonna have to burn his arm down to the bone to get rid of her touch.

_Want me to help yuh clean yuhself up Mistah J?_

"No... leave it..." he muttered. Why had he said that? It wasn't like he wouldn't have enjoyed the sting of alcohol... it wasn't like he just wanted to stay here like this.

_Alright... _He looked at her briefly and saw the faintest yet sweetest of smiles on her lips, but had to turn away.

He felt her smile fall away, her tears becoming more obvious. _You know Mistah J, you don't need to..._She had begun to trace his palms, but felt him tense.

He glared at him from the corner of his eyes. If he wanted to slice his arm open to the bone a dozen times, this bitch wasn't going to stop him. If he wanted to burn his arm off, this bitch wasn't going to stop him.

"I don't need to what, exactly?" he growled.

She looked down, focusing on his palm. _You don't need tuh look away. I promise I won't fear yuh any less if yuh don always look like you're gonna kill me_ She winked at him playfully. _I know you would._

The Joker snickered as she kissed his wrist again. "Then why stay? Why not run kid?"

She blushed and squeezed his arm and hand a bit. _I... I love you Mistah J..._ Then rushed out with her eyes leaking a few tears _I promise Mistah J I won't evah think less of you for showin me some emotion..._ Then smiled and laughed. _You'll always be the most dangerous man in Gotham._

The Joker smiled too. This nutsy kid… A sweet kid, but a horrible taste in people. She was gonna be a fun toy.

The Joker tried to touch her cheek, but she was gone.

He pulled his hand back and rubbed his eyes and kept them covered. That's right. He hadn't known how to react back then so he had slapped her away and slept in the tub. She came back the next morning to clean him up. He made fun of the hand mark on her face, calling her a hooker, saying that her pimp had slapped her for never making her weekly quota. She took the jokes silently with tears in her eyes. They made him laugh all the more.

The Joker couldn't help but think of all of the cruelties of the first year... hell, all 7 years. He always tried to break her, to prove no one could ever care for him. But she stayed for no reason. He had shattered her many times, but she bounced back every time. Sometimes it was violently, sometimes quietly, sometimes lovingly, sometimes sexually.

But either way, she would come back.

A thought occurred to him that made his heart sink. It was the thought he had blocked out since that night.

Harleen Quinzel, Harley Quinn, was the purest thing he had in his life, and he wanted her to stay with him.

And just for her insane, unreasonable feeling she called "love" she stayed with him. She would have died for him.

And she did.

And her great Joker, the most dangerous man in Gotham, could not even save her.

The Joker sighed heavily and stood up, suddenly wanting to get away from the smell of alcohol and cooked flesh. He walked into the bedroom and now, he couldn't help but look at everything she touched. And she was touching everything.

He could see her fixing their bed, before the Joker dove on it laughing about ruining her hard work. She just laughed and pounced on top of him. They ripped everything off their bed that day.

He could see her trying to model for him at the doorway as he read the Gotham Times. He just threw the sports section at her head.

He could see her sleeping on the bed with a teddy bear colored corresponding to the real thing after an especially long business trip. She gladly let him burn the copy cat when she saw he was home.

But then he noticed the pictures on the wall. Harley had convinced him to take her to the mall after-hours. He wasn't having much fun, but she went nuts when she saw the photo-booth.

The first one had her with her brightest smile while he had his arms crossed, leaning away.

Next was Harley talking to him with her arms around his neck.  
><em>C'mon Mistah J!<em>

Next was the Joker's face pressed against the lens with with an incredulous look while Harley had a cruel smile.  
><em>Have some fun with it!<em>

Next was Harley giggling while the Joker was bristling. He remembered he was getting ready to smash her face through the glass but...

Next Harley kissed him and the Joker was shocked by her courage. As she put more money in, he had smiled.

The next picture had him holding her chin smiling charmingly. She was completely content with just that...  
><em>You know Poo<em>

Next he had his arm around her shoulder talking while she had a contented smile, his hand in the air.  
><em>You're the only person in this wild that could get away with that alive, but…<em>

Next he has her in a headlock giving her a noogie with a cruel but playful smile. Her face was scrunched up in a bit of pain and effort.  
><em>Theres a price to pay for life! C'mere slugger!<br>No! Mistah J! Stop! Hahaha_

The next was just his Jacket's corner, a bit of his legs, her legs and her oversized tush.

He couldn't help but take the last picture down and laugh at it. She had miraculously gotten out and tackled him out of the booth. They laughed and kissed there until the sirens became audible. Even after they got to the warehouse Harley refused to get over the pictures, completely ignoring the masses of clothes she normally would have modeled for everyone.

She forced Buddy to go expand the pictures and pick up some "nice" frames for them.

He replaced the picture and took down the first one. It basically exemplified their relationship. Her trying too hard while he just let her.

And somehow in the end she made it work.

He looked down the line to her contented smile and sighed.

"Sorry Harls..." he mused, sliding his fingers over her image, "but the Joker doesn't rebuild." He took the picture out and shoved it in his pocket. He went to his closet, chose his next best coat –remembering Harley's expression before using his best coat to stop the bleeding –his hat, two guns, three wads of cash, and a large black duffel bag filled with guns.

He put his coat on, put the guns in their holsters, put his hat on and pulled the bag on his back.

As he walked out of the room, he looked back and thought about what he had lost... and then who had taken it from gripped the knob as his anger hit him and gently closed the door like he was closing a tomb. He couldn't help but remember all of the times he had done this with Harley sleeping inside; when he was sneaking off to go do a job where he needed to be as ruthless and daring as he truly was.

He stomped down the stairs, observing the chaos he had created. He looked at the men he had killed and noticed the lighter relaxing on top of the older one, waiting for his _daddy_ to put it to work.

The Joker picked it up and flicked it on, smiling softly into the little door into Hell it created.

He waltzed around the first floor lighting everything –anything –on fire humming a soft little tune. He would laugh suddenly every few notes for no reason, but he didn't care. He was having fun and that's all that mattered. When he got to the couch he lit it on fire, despite the moments he had with Harley on the couch. He wanted no reminders...

No reminders to the red string that linked his black little heart to the big white world.

He suddenly felt giddy about his harlequin being gone.

Gone.  
>Gone!<br>**GONE**! **AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**

He looked at the house around him going up in flames and began to cackle maniacally.

His grin got darker when he saw the whiskey bottle, still half full.

He picked it up and threw it into a fire on the other side of the room. The small explosion was enough to push the Joker and his things out the door.

The Joker got on his knees coughing after being face down in the dirt for a minute or so. He groaned and stood up, brushed the dirt off of his coat and pants, then reached down for his fedora. He looked up and smiled at his handiwork, enjoying the waves of heat coming off the house. Like it was trying to punish him but couldn't reach… or the flames of Hell were thanking him for giving them an entrance.

He laughed at them both and walked away. "Sorry Harls, but your dear ole Joker doesn't rebuild. He only destroys."

He laid his head back and laughed at her, the world, himself, and the poor sorry bastards who were in the car he was chasing now. And he was going to catch it... oh yes. He was going to catch it... and rip it apart piece by delectable piece.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

So now we have a switch. Going from the clever money-based Joker who had a few limits, to the Joker who only wants chaos... and I promise you all he'll have all of the chaos he wants as well as the revenge Harley fans reading this want to hear. I can promise you all, the next part will NOT disappoint.

But please, reviews are always appriciated. :)

And to explain the part where Joker was closing the door, in a way he was locking his heart away in Harley's tomb. Kind of a sweet gesture right? Leaving his heart with her while he goes to take care of the guys who seperated them? And I was hoping the way I wrote it implied that he did this pretty often so it raises the question, how long has he felt this way?


	7. To be Scared by an Owl Pt I

**A/N: **FINALLY! A new chapter. I'm sorry it took so long but this chapter (or chapter_s _now) turned out to be much longer than I thought. The second part will be done by next weekend if all goes well in school.

So, the Joker is completely off his rocker and desires blood... and blood he will have.

**warning! This chapter has content that may not be suitable for small children!**

Song: "To be Scared by an Owl" By AlesanaThe rain is crashing down, I've hit another dead end Just before I let hope slip away A shadow is revealed, the devil shows his face  
>I'm scared to death and have myself to blame, (I'm to blame) How did we end up fighting anyway? ... Shut your mouth and finish what you've started... As the last rays of sunlight fade, One killer chases another Through the tangled madness of the city A flash of steel announces the presence of his quarry The stage is set, the night explodes...<p>

* * *

><p><strong>To be Scared by an Owl Pt. I<strong>

It's been 3 weeks since the fire at the Joker's place. We found two bodies, but the coroner's report said neither could not be the Joker after examining the dental reports. The girl wasn't there either.

So I've been sitting in this fucking chair for 3 fucking weeks, wonder when the damn clown was going to get me.

At least they made me a bit more comfortable… after the second night they sent the doctor to fix me up. He gave me plenty of pain killers… whether it was for my benefit or theirs it didn't matter anymore. My life was out of my hands. Hell, it was out of my hands when I joined this damn mob. They chose whether I lived or died… right now more than ever. And since I was an outsider my chances weren't looking too good. I was a pet to them. Just another thug… just another disposable gun. Just like the damn clown whore.

But that clown whore was the reason I was in this nightmare… was she really worth it? I'll never know, but I know that despite the inevitability of my death I was still scared. I always feared death being in my business, but death by the Joker seemed all the more frightening.

"I'm having nightmares…" I stammered out to my guard. "I, I'm h-havin' nightmares 'bout him coming for me." He said nothing. "It's usually dark, an…an' you're not with me. S-suddenly I start hearin' him laugh… and it echoes so I…I. Can't. Figure. Out. Where. He. Is… so I just hear him laughing at me… repeating his damn promise over and over again. I… I try to get away. I really do but the chair falls over and I… I see everyone I've ever seen dead. And their blood is on the floor covering my face.

"And then he starts walking towards me… smiling, dragging his girl's body behind him and just throws her in front of me and she's a puppet… a **FUCKING PUPPET! **He pulls some strings and everyone stands up… like walking corpses or something… but they all just laugh his laugh… and it just… It. Never. Stops."

I regretted telling him after I finished. Now everything felt so vivid… so real. Like it wasn't just a dream anymore. My whole body was trembling violently… like it could shiver out of these restraints and run.

I looked up and my guard was actually looking at me and he seemed sympathetic. "I'll see if I can move you up stairs… you'll be safer there."

My eyes went wide with hope. He was the only man in this world with a heart.

The Joker leaned on the alley wall, glaring at the front door with a great big smile; a cigarette creating a mist to hide whatever face wasn't already covered by his fedora.

The building was basically closed. Business hadn't stopped, but the burly man at the door was signal enough that only VIP's were getting in. But even with the heightened security within the building, the only people allowed to go in were afraid to and tried to avoid it.

The Joker laughed. He loved that he could prevent any interference without lifting a finger to do so. Unfortunately it also meant they thought the girl meant more than they should.

He threw his cigarette to the ground and turned on his heels to face his group. Instead of his usual hired thugs, he pulled a few old strings at the psychiatric hospital outside of Gotham and they gave him these.

Some autistic guy, 3 skitzos, some hyperactive, and a medicated sociopath. All 6 were gagged, but none of them fought it. The skitzos now think the gag is keeping their heads together. They hyperactive was "trained" that if he touches it, they gag shocks his hand. The sociopath is convinced that it's not even there, that he's just mute. The autistic just had his mouth glued shut. The Joker didn't bother with him. He was the first one to go anyways.

He took the autistic aside and put his coat on him. "Now, you remember Mandy right?" he cooed warmly.

He nodded.

The poor bastard… _Ha!_ "Mandy is in the building over _there. _ But you need to wait because _teacher_ is at the door. _Wait_ until teacher gets _away_ from the door to go see Mandy."

The Joker had missed this, exploiting someone's weakness and then using them against them… he missed the power he felt. But as his eyes began to glaze over the Joker grabbed his face roughly, already irritated, but then softened his expression to a more fatherly face. "_Inside_. _Inside that building_," the Joker repeated, "is _heaven_. But _teacher_ is keeping you from her. But heaven is _God's_ house. So _how_ do we act in God's house?"

"Mmm-malk…" (we walk) the autistic forced out.

"Yes, so when you see teacher walk away from the door you _walk_ to go get Mandy."

He simply nodded. Having his sweet Mandy involved would keep him focused. They'd be reunited soon anyways. This plan would come together nicely… just a few more touches.

"So I'm stuck like this until we get 'im than?" I demanded. My guard had carried me up to Giovanni's office to discuss how I would be taken care of. But other than my guard no one seemed to care for my well being. Unfortunately, my guard was in no position to talk, not being in a place of power either. A place of respect, but not so much that he can say anything in issues such as these.

But myself? I don't know what happened but when I saw Giovanni's face I felt reinvigorated and more than willing to argue with him. It may have been because he looked just as shitty as I felt, but then again he was in the same boat I was in. I was tied here by ropes; he was tied here by honor. Only the people, and thugs, of Gotham truly understood how cruel and frightening the Joker was. Mob bosses outside the city just thought he was a small time terrorist with a cruel sense of humor and the brains to get away, like the Riddler.

But Giovanni had witnessed the Joker's handy work since he started his business. I don't doubt that he's seen shit that's better left unthought-of... shit better to be left buried in the deepest, darkest part of our subconscious never to be disturbed. A place where no one but the Joker dared to explore.

But unless the Feds were after you, you stayed put. Or else you gave up your terf with a target on your back.

But why the **FUCK** would I care about that? At the moment I wanted to run… if I could. I had no ties to this damn mob… none strong enough to help me, and none strong enough to make me stay.

"Look kid, I can't just have you turn up dead and have no idea what the Joker's next move is. If you're here, he comes to…" he glanced towards my guard and back to me, "discuss things in his… usual fashion and Wa-boom we have him and our problems are solved. No more clowns fucking with my trade.

He looked so fucking excited… bastard.

"And what about me?" I snapped.

He looked at my sharply, but I didn't waiver. Then he smiled. "_You_, my honored friend, are the door the Joker will walk into so we can kill his sorry ass."

I leaned back in the chair, a bit creeped out. "You're going nuts…" I accused.

His smile emptied a bit, like the idea scared him but he didn't want to acknowledge it. "Takes a crazy man to kill a crazy man. It takes a dumb one to shoot his girl."

He stared at me with an empty smile that slowly began to form something behind it. I just couldn't place what it was. Insanity, pride, dominance, or anger? I didn't know. But I did know that I was stupid enough to glare right back at him.

But the tension in the room was broken by a shaking floor. And there sure as hell were no natural earthquakes in Gotham.

"So… he's finally come…" Giovanni whispered, sounding almost giddy. Me? My whole body began to become numb, possibly preparing itself for the pain to come.

The Joker grinned as he walked into the chaos behind his crazies. The poor autistic hand done his job marvelously. Walked in, got shot, and blew up. Poor guy… the only things left of him now were the dust cloud and his body parts. The thought made him chuckle.

The sound of shooting automatics, groans of pain, screams of surprise, falling bodies, moans of defeat, and his chuckle of pleasure filling the rooms while the dust made it all seem like a dream… or a nightmare… _oh_… how he missed days like these.

The Joker began humming a twisted version of "My Favorite Things" to go along with his giddy mood while playfully dancing among the corpses with his new Uzi. He then happily began to shoot at the corpses and survivors, closely following his loons. While the gun shots of their opponents must be scaring them, "daddy" is the most frightening of all.

They plowed through the rush of men to the stairwell due to a sense of survival they didn't quite understand, but the Joker had used to his benefit. The wish to plow through every and all obstacles to stay away. Like sheep.

The Joker, walking at his usual rushed pace, walked through the battlefield and stopped at the stairwell door. He blew a kiss and mockingly bowed to his silent audience, taking in the sight of dead and mutilated bodies before shutting the door behind him.

He took the steps two at a time, eager to reach his destination, as he heard the beautiful echo of bullets. It seemed that ole Giovanni had his whole army in the building. Oh well, less to track down later he supposed.

But for right now in the stairwell he planned to have some fun.

He took a knife out of his pocket and twirled it in his fingers, smiling cruelly when a horrified young face appeared between the reflection of his own grinning face. He grabbed his knife firmly and stalked towards the strapping young man. He fruitlessly tried to crawl away but he had bullets in his leg and stomach… it would be no use.

He put one leg on either side of the soon-to-be corpse and began slicing.

Oh… how he missed the sound of hopeless screams of pain.

"WHERE ARE THE REST OF MY MEN!" Giovanni screamed into his phone. I just watched apathetically as his face turned white. The rest of the men in the room looked at each other nervously and held their guns a bit tighter.

He hung up and threw his cell at the wall. Then placed both hand on his desk, his muscles tense. I had no doubt that the Joker could smell his fear down stairs where the bullets were getting louder.

"I take it back up won't be coming, I stated coldly, barely recognizing my own voice… barely thinking now.

"Shut up," he growled, bristling.

"I wonder who he's coming for… you or me or all of us," I pondered apathetically.

"I SAID SHUT UP!" he shouted angrily, his gun appearing in between my eyes. My heart dropped as I looked down the barrel… but the strangest thing happened. I started to chuckle… then full out laugh.

It wasn't a nervous laughter… or a joke at the bar laughter… the only thing I could compare it to was the Joker's insane laughter. At this thought, tears started streaming down my face. I was losing my mind… it was slipping away from me and there was nothing I could do about it. The Joker had killed me before he even found me.

The whole room just stared at me. Some furious, some sympathetic, and others terrified. But Giovanni was a mix of fear and fury. He glared at me with pure hatred and cocked his gun, imagining me as an incarnation of his greatest fear. He was about to say something when another laugh filled the room, over powering mine.

Everyone in the room pointed their guns at the door as the laugh got louder.

Then it was silent.

No sound

No signal

No voices

No warnings.

The tense silence was testing everyone's sanity. God have mercy someone have mercy and end this torturous SILENCE!

My prayers were answered… but I didn't want it anymore…

_Raindrops on Gotham and dead leather kittens.  
><em>_Red bloodied messes and burning live chickens  
><em>_Charred unknown corpses held up with a string  
><em>_These are a few of my favorite things.  
><em>_Exploding psychotics and new automatics  
><em>_Loud screams and pained screams and being erratic  
><em>_Dying scared Mob thugs with blood on their cheeks  
><em>_These are a few of my favorite things.  
><em>_When the girl __**dies  
><strong>__When the mob __**sucks  
><strong>__When I'm feeling sad…  
><em>_I simply remember my favorite things  
><em>_And then Gotham feels… so bad… _

Just as the song stopped the door knob was shot off and the door kicked open. Everyone began to shoot at the door, hoping they'd hit the mark. And they did. A man wearing clown make-up collapsed on the floor, pushing the door wide open. We all watched him bleed out on the floor, all of us in shock.

Then we all looked up nervously at the door. No one else was willing to move to close it or to movie out of the way. Somehow we all knew it was useless; the Joker would get us all either way. Despite my adrenaline rushing, the Joker's influence kept me silent.

A small sound woke us from out fear-filled trance. It was a small ping that we all recognized. Most of the men ran for cover, but my guard went for the door, and Giovanni dove behind his desk.

When the small bomb bounced on the floor my heart stopped. I guess it hoped it was done. The random spikes of adrenaline were done. The constant night scares were over.

_Finally…_

I was suddenly surrounded by clouds and couldn't see or feel… and I was glad for it. After the living hell I had called my life, this was nice.

But then the clouds faded back into the office room, but worse.

Two men had their cheeks sliced open and their eyes gauged out. Their lifeless bodies were still spilling blood, and the rest had guns pressed against their temples. Giovanni and the Joker had each other at gun point. Giovanni looked serious as ever while the Joker was chuckling playfully.

"Hey Eddy boy, if I say 3, shoot your man," the Joker ordered playfully. I looked and Giovanni's right hand man looked scared as hell. Giovanni looked angrier and held his gun more tightly. "One… two…"

"Alright! Alright!" Giovanni shouted as he laid down his weapon.

Giovanni then fixed his suit and smoothed back his hair and recomposed his expression to t hat of a friendly business man. "Now c'mon Joker, we're both businessmen here… we can strike a deal easy."

"A deal eh?" the Joker pondered, spinning his gun on his trigger, making the whole room tense.

"Yes," Giovanni answered, trying to conceal his fear. "I give you the man who killed your girl and you let my men and me go."

The Joker held his chin in thought. It was only now that I took a good look at him. His hair and make-up were still very neat and the colors very bright. He looked like he took a good amount of time getting ready for today. "One lowlife for five good-for-nothings? Doesn't sound like a very good deal…"

Giovanni walked over to me and gripped my chair, obviously anxious. But I paid him no mind. I couldn't take my eyes away from the Joker as he judged me like livestock.

As the Joker circled me to inspect me, Giovanni took a cautious step back but kept up his friendly businessman façade.

"Hm…" he squeezed my forearm and frowned, "seems a bit scrawny…" he looked down at my legs and smiled darkly. "Why, dear, ole Giovanni… trying to sell damaged goods eh?" He quickly aimed his gun at Giovanni. "Sorry but… no deal."

With that he began shooting and laughing mercilessly, sending a shiver of fear down my back as I watched Giovanni's body cringe and bend as the stream of bullets struck his body until he collapsed onto the floor, bleeding everywhere but the Joker didn't stop shooting until the body was completely mutilated. Everyone else in the room seemed just as horrified as I was when the Joker turned back towards us.

He stalked towards me with a huge grin. He grabbed my hair and used to it pull my head back. When I began to whimper and cry he stroked my cheek in a vain attempt to soothe me… then feel of his glove just made this all too real. When he realized I wasn't going to be quiet he cupped my chin and picked my head up to look at him.

"If you're going to be so loud, let's take this shindig somewhere else."

And then it all went black.

* * *

><p>So the Joker got what he wanted hopefully in a way that satisfies you all. and I PROMISE the shooter will be taken care of in a manner that fits the crime... well in my opinion fits the crime.<p>

Thank you **all** for following the story. (Gracias a todos para siguiendo mi historia) I'd really appriciate some reviews and if you like where this is headed or not... who am I kidding of course you do. ;)


	8. To be Scared by an Owl Pt II

**A/N: **And for the long awaited revenge for Joker's dear Harley Quinn. While I feel the chapter is justifiable by the Joker's rage caused by Harley's death, I'll admit that it made me feel bad writing this. (in my physics class no less with my neighbor becoming more and more curious about what I was writing). I kind of mixed the Animated Series Joker with Dark Knight Joker here again. While he doesn't have Heath Ledger's scars, he has the attitude. (and have you ever seen Heath with just the Joker scars? HOT!) And a bit more of the AS's dark humor.  
>And before you all think I'm this mentally disturbedescaped psychiatric patient, here's a quote that illustrates how I come up with this type of stuff.

_"All of us seem to have come equipped with filters on the floor of our minds, and allthe filter have different sizes and meshes... All of us seem to have a built-in obligation to sift through the sludge that gets caught in our perspective mind filters..." -Stephen King (no I am not comparing myself to his greatness)_

**WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS _VERY_ GRAPHIC AND THE IMAGES PORTRAYED IN THIS CHAPTER ARE NOT FOR THOSE WITH WEAK STOMACHS OR HEARTs. **I will be posting a very brief summary of the section in italics at the end of the chapter so you don't miss anything.

Song: "To be Scared by an Owl" by Alesana. Look at the sky As the night descends The rain is crashing down I've hit another dead end Just before I let hopes slip away A shadow is revealed, The devil shows his face. Look in my eyes am I shaking now? I am all you fear, have I made myself clear? ... You killed her! you murderer! You have stripped me of the one that I love! Anabell, our Anabell! Murderer, you murdered her You have no clue what she's capable of... You know I used to search the sky And dream of where you were I need you by my side We can end this together I know I promised you the world But still I let you down I need you by my side and together we'll end this now **You better look behind you!**

* * *

><p><strong>To be Scared by an Owl Pt. II<strong>

In the middle of the night, a man in a chair was beginning to stir. He didn't move very much, but just enough for the shadow in the corner to notice that Jimmy was awake. As he began to open his eyes, he seemed confused. Perhaps because the room he was just as dark has his sleep. He turned his head frantically, as if he sensed danger. It seems that he doesn't understand that he's actually saturated in it. This thought didn't occur to him until a television set appeared in front of him, illuminating the rest of the room with a ghostly white light.

Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he managed to look away from the static filled television screen, and the shadow in the corner could hear the ropes squeak ever so quietly as Jimmy's body instinctively tried to get away despite the obvious uselessness. The room was obviously an old and deteriorating warehouse building. Jimmy could smell the iron… and something entirely different. He cautiously looked to the side and found the source. It was a faint burning smell… sweet and faint but he remembered it distinctly having watched his friends burn their skin for fun as a teenager not so long ago.

But what he saw took the fun out of everything he knew about burning. He saw two men hanging from the ceiling by hooks forced into their backs. Old blood was pooled below their feet and almost streamed down to the chair's legs, as if it was begging for mercy from a man who wasn't even there. What's worse was that they were burned. Charred. From their feet to their necks. No part of them had been spared except their faces. Worse than the image itself was the fact that Jimmy owed one of the men a favor. His guard was hanging as well… rotting away and adding to Jimmy's misery.

As a small evil chuckle echoed around the room, the television was no longer filled with static, but with a picture of a headless corpse… and then a picture of a body, broken and cut wide open with a smile cut into his cheeks… and the images didn't seem to end… the newscasters making the situation all too real.

_The headless corpse of known mob boss Giovanni Russo was found today-_

_The broken body of James Moretti was discovered today-_

_The police walked into the house only to find the… mutilated bodies of 3 families related to the known mob members. Authorities have determined the sting of mob based murders is the doing of the notorious "Joker"-_

_The bodies of Jimmy Sanchez and Benny "Big" Johnson were found hanging in their homes burned and so mutilated that the authorities could only identify them due to the deliberately placed ID's on the floor below the victims. Their families were found stabbed to death on the floor above-_

_The corpses of 5 __**children**__ were found today. They seemed to have been attacked by a pack of dogs. Rumors of vague family connections to those in the recent mob murders-_

_Statistics and records show that the Joker is targeting __anyone__ who had anything to do with the group of gangsters who took park in the murder of H-_

_Gotham's nursing home was attacked by mental patients today. Despite their mental instabilities they apparently reached one of the Joker's targets… drawing and…quartering them… then __**playing**__ with their entrails… oh god I think I'm gonna be sick-_

_Our dear politician Brown was found in Gotham's sewage pipes. A note saying "he was full of shit anyways" nailed into this chest –a wound coroners are saying was pre-mortem. Proof of the allegations has not been brought forward to the public– _static.

"I hate news reports… they take all the fun out of my jokes," the Joker grumbled as he pushed himself out of the shadows and into the light created by the static filled TV. Jimmy wasn't sure if it was because of the lighting or because of something inside of him, but the Joker's colors seemed drained. The bright colors he had seen him in in the office were faded.

His lips were no longer painted red, but chapped and pinkish from residual coloring. His bright green hair was darker and falling into his face, almost obscuring his dull eyes. His face, usually snow white, was now simply pale and dirty. At first Jimmy took his appearance as a sign of frailty. He began to think he could get out of this if he played his cards right…

But as the Joker trudged towards Jimmy, his figure began to inflate and transform from that of a frail, tired, empty soul to one of arrogance and disdain. As he came closer, Jimmy found that the imperfections in his skin were scars and cuts… some clean and others torn. And the dirt on his face wasn't dirt at all… it was blood.

"I mean, I give them a good joke to tell, but they never deliver it correctly," he remarked, pleasantly annoyed. "I mean, the Joker was playing vigilante for a while. I got rid of a whole weapons dealer group and **I'M STILL THE BAD GUY!**" He grabbed the corner of the television set while he doubled over laughing at his own joke. Jimmy just watched him with an empty, horrified stare.

Somewhere in his head where his mind still functioned he determined he preferred his nightmare and laughter filled subconscious over this reality… but at least there was nothing the Joker could do that could scare him _now_.

He was horribly mistaken.

"I've got something to show you Jimmy boy… one of my favorite videos..." then sighed as he set up the VCR to watch a video. "Although I have to apologize about the shitty camera work. _Harley_ was usually my camera-woman… lacking one really took a toll on my filmmaking skills. I missed some _very_ good shots…"

He walked back and sat down next to Jimmy Indian style, like a kindergartener getting ready for a Disney movie.

The movie began with a pan view of a room filled with people tied to chairs and gagged, but some still tried to scream and break free. Jimmy's mind, or what was left of it, could not count the number of bodies in the room… all it could do was consider it a lot. The Joker, on the other hand, knew exactly how many there were. 53. 53 future corpses in a single room. And the only thing he could think of was: it still didn't match up with his missing toy.

"_Hello gents… s you all probably know I'm playing with every single person who had anything to do with the deceased Giovanni and his crew," the Joker introduced pleasantly._

_The room filled with muffled protesting yells._

"_Oh I know I know, none of you were there when he killed the clown. But here's a little fact… neither was he." And with that he turned the camera on himself and began to laugh. _Jimmy couldn't help but notice how similar his appearance was now to then… obviously he hadn't shot this very long ago. _"No… no, this isn't about revenge… this is about _FUN_! I thought killing his little crew would sate me but _noooo_… his whole gang made it _BORING_. Running and waiting tsk tsk tsk tsk ssss… soooo predictable. So I decided to _extend_ my options for toys rather than just stopping there. So let's get started."_

_The camera was picked up and moved by hand. The Joker grumbled as he set up the tripod so it could capture the image of what seemed to be a family of 3. There was a boy with short cropped blond hair, green eyes and a very adorable face… or it would have been if tears weren't streaming down his face. He appeared to have gotten his looks from this mother._

_She was a MILF despite her running make-up. Her hair had been done as well as her nails. She even had a cocktail dress on with an expensive necklace wrapped around her neck. The dress was creased due to the ropes used to tie her down, but that seemed to be the least of her worries as she bounced up and down in her chair with tears still streaming down the duct tape over her mouth._

_The father seemed to be a businessman. His hair was just beginning to release itself from whatever gel he used and he had a few bruises forming around his face. He looked at the Joker and the camera with unbridled contempt._

"_Well, I bet _you_ two are wondering what _you're_ doing here. You never helped the mob. _You_ miss even stood as a witness against one." The Joker leaned down and touched her cheek but she immediately shied away in fear and he frowned. "But that was __years__ ago. Before the little tike over here gave you a reason to be scared of the streets of Gotham, draining you of the adventurer you used to be… but you never minded. I had a girl just like you… but she would have minded."_

_The Joker then jumped in the father's lap, nearly tipping the chair over, putting a look of terror on the father's face while the Joker just laughed._

"_And then there's _dear, ole **daddy **_who knows _exactly _why you're all here. Doncha dad?" with that he began to cackle again as a look of confusion spread across the wife's face. "Pop here's been hiding drug and weaponry money for the mob. Did you know that mommy?" the Joker taunted the woman, laying his head back to lay his head on her shoulder. He began to laugh again at the incredulously angry look the woman gave her husband as an expression of guilt and despair befell the father._

"_See pops? And now I'm really gonna cut your heart out with a spoon…" he got up and walked towards the child, knife in hand._

"This is my favorite part," the Joker whispered to Jimmy excitedly, somehow maintaining the ability to munch on food while watching his cruelty. Jimmy on the other hand was sure that he could feel his stomach churn despite the fact there was nothing inside of him.

_The mother began wailing and jumping in her chair in a panic, vainly trying to protect her son._

_The Joker stepped in front of the child, blocking the camera, and began slicing. _Fearing for the child, Jimmy's heart began banging against his ribs. He expected the Joker to step aside to reveal the boy's mutilated body… but despite this knowledge he couldn't look away while his mind ran farther and farther away.

_When the Joker stepped aside, the boy was still in one piece, but extremely shaken. He was unbound and his mouth was no longer gagged. The Joker held him firmly by the collar and whispered something in his ear._

"Ugh… fucking camera. I told the kid that if he tried to run away, I'd make his parents scream as they died while he ran away," he said matter-of-factly with food in his mouth.

_The mother obviously heard this because she began screaming behind her gag, probably telling her precious baby to run… but her loyal offspring only cried more while his young mind battled against itself. The mother's cries became pleading to her son… while the Joker simply watched with a smile, drinking in their torture._

_Suddenly the Joker grabbed the boy's hair and pressed the knife against his throat, turning his face towards the camera. "Now, tell the camera your name…"_

"_J- J- Ji- Jim –Ji J, J," the young boy struggled out between sobs._

"_**SAY IT!**__" the Joker bellowed angrily._

"_Jimmy!" the boy screamed._

Jimmy –the shooter –couldn't help but create a connection between the boy and himself.

That's when it hit him… the death of all of these people are his fault. All. His. Fault.

"_Now __Jimmy__, look at daddy… and ask him why he helped the bad people," he growled._

"_Da… daddy… wh-why did you help the bad people?" the boy asked._

"_Go ahead _DADDY_," the Joker growled as he tore the duct tape off the man's mouth. He merely grunted in pain; but as he looked at his son, his eyes proved how much pain he was really in._

"_I… I needed to keep you and mommy happy…" he stated strongly._

_The Joker grinned. "And you did an excellent job daddy…" and with that, the Joker cut the boy's throat wide open and dropped the bleeding boy on the floor and began to cackle as the parents screamed for their dying baby. "You want him? HERE YA GO!" he teased as he dumped the bleeding boy into his parents' laps. They both screamed and cried as the boy sputtered for their help and covered them in his blood. It was only then that Jimmy noticed the whole room screaming and crying in fear and remorse. Chairs were banging on the ground and scraping the floor, but no sound could overpower the sound of the Joker's cruel laughter._

The Joker frowned though. "Such shotty camera work…" and with that he popped something back into his mouth and began munching again.

_Eventually the boy stopped moving and the parents' screams became mournful wails._

"_Awww… poor mommy… I bet you want to cut our hearts out with a spoon…" he cooed as he wiped his bloody knife off on her cheeks. She shied away, furious and disgusted. "How about it…? Cutting out his heart? _BUT_ I hear that __you__ have it sooo…"_

This time when the screaming started Jimmy looked away. Last time he had hoped for some sort of miracle… but this time there was no God… there was no hero to save them.

But when he opened his eyes and looked at the Joker, he was still smiling… it was only then that he fully grasped the magnitude of his crime against the Joker… and how much the world would suffer for it.

_When he looked back at the screen he found the Joker looking at the camera, chuckling with a huge evil smile plastered on his face while being covered in the blood of his victims. "See here Jimmy, this is all happening due to a little twitch of your finger. Now I'm going to watch as they all die at the hands of my new men… one, by, one. And burn the survivors alive… And then… when this tape is finished… I'll make good on my promise." The Joker began to giggle as his hand covered the lens… and the video cut off right after the first muffled scream._

The Joker was already waiting behind Mark with a knife. In two swift movements he cut Jimmy loose then kicked him out of his chair. He landed on his knees and yelled in pain. The Joker giggled and picked up a nearby crowbar and forced it down on his exposed heel… and bathed in the screams that escaped his throat, and then got drunk on the screams that shot out when he heard the crunch of his victim's thigh.

As he prepared himself to swing again, his victim threw up his hands to stop him "Wai, wai, wait." The Joker stopped and regained his gentleman like composure as he patiently waited for his latest victim's last request. "Just tell me one thing…"

The Joker smiled kindly, despite the bloodlust boiling inside his skull.

"Did the girl-"

"Harley…" the Joker corrected sternly.

"Did Harley really mean this much to you?" he asked calmly, temporarily ignoring the pain in his legs.

The Joker glared at Jimmy… obviously debating… obviously reluctant to give him an answer. Was he really going to dip into the darkest part of his mind just to shave such useless information? But his mind didn't give him much of a choice.

The Joker gripped the crowbar tightly, as if he were hanging off of it. "You didn't let me keep the only thing I really wanted," he replied coldly.

Jimmy didn't believe the sadness he saw in the Joker's eyes… had he really killed a monster's only chance at love? He didn't know, but the fact that he caused the Joker this type of pain scared the hell out of him.

When the Joker's smiling eyes returned, they both knew that nothing was going to stop him from killing. The Joker had an insatiable urge to kill, and he would not be able to stifle it… but he had no plan to.

Soon enough, a symphony of breaking bones and pained screams echoed around the warehouse. The screams continued for at least an hour… and then the sound of metal on bone continued alone… but oh how beautiful it all seemed to the murderous Joker. His enthusiasm grew and grew until he tossed the bleeding crowbar aside and began to break the corpse with his bare hands.

Hours later, just before dawn, the Joker stepped out of his new torture chamber and into the night air. His chest inflated with the chilly air around him… and deflated as he exhaled. He collapsed onto the freezing ground and ran his fingers through his hair. Something inside him had healed. He had finally killed. He had finally finished the finest massacre ever commited in Gotham. And he got away with it.

He looked down at his scarred hand... groaned. The mark and what they meant were still there... the blood hadn't washed them away at all. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a wrinkled, blood stained piece of paper. His mind wouldn't register what was on it, but his heart sank the moment he touched it... but he didn't want that pain anymore. It wasn't supposed to be there. He didn't want to live with it forever...

Now what would he do?

* * *

><p>So that's our Joker's revenge on Jimmy. I hope you enjoyed his death and his emotionalmental torture. Now, why didn't I just kill him with knives and acid and fire and hyenas? (although the hyena part actually came to mind) Because the Joker _loves _to mentally disturbe people. Plus, isn't the whole point of the Joker that he shows other people his pain and suffering? When Jimmy killed Harley, the Joker felt guilty and left behind by death to suffer his incurable guilt alone in this hell we call the world.  
>So, he took that concept and showed it to Jimmy. Do you think Jimmy understands the Joker's pain? Do you understand it? Honestly, I don't even understand it. And quite honestly, I never want to.<p>

**Video summary: **The Joker has 53 people trapped in a room. He picks out one family of 3 (mother, father and young son) and decides to torture them emotionally. He gives the mother a reason to hate the father (this being his fault), confuses the son (does he save his life by running or stay to keep his parents alive... temporarily), and shames the father by making him useless when it comes to saving his family. The Joker kills the son (named Jimmy), then the mother, then the father. The last two I did not describe. Then the Joker talks to Jimmy from the video, telling him his plans when it comes to the last 50. Next he starts beating on Jimmy.

The end?

I think not. We still have a few more chapters of madness and pain to go through... care to join me?


	9. Abigail

**A/N**: So this is a few days after the last chapter. I'm introducing a new character named Abigail Franklin who is also an intern at Arkham. I tried to make her out to be a narcisistic bitch and I hope you all hate her as much as I do. :D

Song: "Abigail" Motionless in White  
>Oh Abigail how could you do this to us? You were a product of lust (Product of lust) And now this rope on my neck stopped all the blood to my head So, now Salem please save me (Salem please save me) Wish upon the stars, but they won't save you tonight God has forsaken thee to hell, we're going to hang from the sky Feel the weight of the stones crush hard on your chest Confess, confess before you run short of breath Confess, confess here for your sins Burn baby burn She's a witch, she's a witch and I'm a heretic so, learn Oh Abigail how could you do this to us? I'll see you when we both meet in hell<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Abigail<strong>

It was around midnight in Arkham Asylum. A normal night for the old place. Screams echoing around and through the thick, ancient walls meant to protect the "innocents" wandering its halls and separate them from the sick that wandered their cells. The screams even pierced the floors and reached me in the archive room underground.

They didn't faze me anymore though. I've been in this God forsaken place for almost a year now as an intern. A very good one if I say so myself. I mean look at me, I'm down here in the pits of this hellhole looking at case files, teaching myself about the most morbid cases Arkham has ever had. Sure I wasn't allowed to… but anything was possible when one of your patients was a young teenager, pretty enough to entice guards who held keys and cards.

I scoffed at the thought of them… the girl I had given up the guards, or was it the guards I gave up to the girl? Honestly I wasn't sure, knowing her file and the guard's struggle for dominance in this place. I would either hear about it or I wouldn't… it didn't really matter now did it? I'm not even sure if this little trip into Arkham's archives would be worth them/her… Nothing interesting had come up yet. Most of the patients who were in these boxes were still in their cells or buried in Arkham's cemetery.

I groaned and laid my head back on the old, squeaking chair and decided to spin as I stared up at the light above my desk. It was as old as this chair probably… I was surprised when I walked in and it still worked. It gave off a yellowish hue and left shadows around the room, leaving plenty of room for rats and escaped patients. It had worried me at first but the rats living here have probably had enough of humans considering how many times I've seen some patients eating them. Poor bastards…

I stood up and began to put the papers back into the manila folder and picked it up to replace it on the shelf. As I searched for its former spot, I noticed a strange file. It looked relatively new… and that was strange since most of the doctors now kept their files close to them for reference. And to keep nosey interns like me away. Some of them to make sure they keep the possible fame to themselves, others to hide their abusive and unorthodox habits, and others to keep me from learning bad habits. All of them were pointless if you actually thought about it. I was going to learn bad habits in here eventually.

I mean I was stuck in here. If I ever left Arkham Asylum for a normal mental hospital, I would be kept on a very short leash. While most students were smart enough to keep away from this place, I decided to take it on. I didn't know how bad this place actually was… or that the doctors weren't much of mentors, or that I would be looked at with suspicion if I ever left. If I ever got a job outside of Arkham I wouldn't be allowed alone. I would forever be an intern… and that just won't fly. I was destined for greatness… whether or not it was orthodox or not.

I replaced the file and took a look at the file I had found. It didn't have a label on it, which was strange because people here were very strict with labeling everything they did since there was such a mass of files. I pulled it out and groaned softly. It was _huge_! But it had already peaked my interest… damn it. Oh well. I lugged the file back to the desk and let it fall making the desk groaned in effort.

I plopped into the chair and began to scan the files when I saw a very familiar face. The Joker. What was a Joker file doing down here-

I chuckled when I saw who had been working on these files. **Harleen Quinzel. **The former _Harley Quinn_, the amateur psychologist who had been sucked into the Joker's insanity and fell in _love_ with a textbook sociopath. Idiot. I scanned through her research and notes and saw a theory that she had that made me smile darkly.

_The Joker not a textbook sociopath_? HA! The traits of a sociopath couldn't be clearer if he wore a sign around his neck… huh. The more I read her work the more believable it all seemed. Such a traumatic even could lead to a split in his personality. A tormented man and a sociopathic clown unable to feel the pain that had nearly killed him… it actually all made sense.

The only problem was the fact that when she had sent down a rope to save the man beneath the monster, the gravity of the monster between the man and reality had sucked her in and taken her for a ride.

She was weak… but with this theory and her original strategy in hand… in _my_ **capable** hands… this could work. This would get me out of Arkham and _prove_ I was the best.

Huh… it seems the girl was a cheap price to pay for a trip to the archives.

"Abigail?" a voice called behind me. Shit. Joan. One of the only hopeful doctors in this damn place…

I slide Harleen's thesis into my own file and spun around in my chair with a smile. "Hey Joan. You're up late."

She looked me over skeptically. "So are you… you know you're not allowed in here."

"Oh I know," I replied carelessly, keeping up the naïve girl façade I've been playing on her during my time here. "But one of the guards offered and how could I pass it up? Plus there are some interesting cases down here."

She grimaced and opened the door wide, signaling for me to get out. I complied and kept my walk stiff and guilty. "You know Abigail, there's a reason interns aren't allowed to read the files in the archives. You could pick up some bad ideas from those files…" she explained as we walked through the cold corridor. It gave me the creeps and my senses were on alert for anything. Especially Joan's body language…

_No kidding._ "It gave me a new perspective though. I find it interesting how determined some of the doctors here are to cure their patients. It's very inspiring." I calmed down a bit once we reached the narrow stair case.

"You sure have an interesting way of looking at it," she mumbled as we re-entered the world of partial normalcy. The door led us back into Arkham's holding cells, dark, old grey walls surrounding us with cold air while the "patients" were held behind Plexiglas walls.

I followed Joan back to the lounge in silence, thinking about what I had just found. The Joker was curable... just in pain underneath his mask of cruelty and smiles. Harleen had been onto something there… I just needed to perfect it… make it so _I_ could cure the Joker and succeed in what she failed to do while sane: become famous. I smiled and gripped the manila folder against my chest as I thought of all of the different reasons why this would work out for me.

For one thing, I was smart enough **not** to fall in love with homicidal clowns.

Suddenly Joan stopped and put her hand to her mouth in amazement. I looked at her and then followed her gaze to the tv. Most of the doctors and guards in the lounge, a surprisingly bright place in a building like Arkham, were staring at the tv in amazement as well.

…_The Joker gave himself up to the Gotham City Police Department today. After a thorough search of his person, he was allowed inside and questioned. During questioning, Commissioner Gordon was unable to find out why The Joker had given himself up, but sources say that the Joker told officials that his partner, Harleen Quinzel also known as Harley Quinn who used to be a doctor at Arkham Asylum, had perished about a month ago in a run in with the mob._

_The Joker is said to be sent to Arkham Asylum, _once again_, for rehabilitation…_

I backed away from the lounge with a hidden smile on my face while the mourning murmurs and prayers began.

So my wish had been granted… the Joker would be coming to Arkham… within **my** reach.

What a great day this is.

* * *

><p>Calling Harley an amateur... HA! We'll see...REVIEW IF YOU HATE HER ALREADY!<p> 


	10. Angel with the Scabbed Wings Pt I

**A/N**: So now we return to the Joker. I've kind of reverted him back to the more... criminally oriented Joker with a mix of the Dark Knight Joker. Why? I guess because he wants to start over and see where it takes him... keep reading to find out where these two go.

Song: "Angel with the Scabbed Wings" by Marilyn Manson  
>He is the angel with the scabbed wings Hard-drug face, want to powder his nose He will deflower the freshest crop Dry up all the wombs with his rock and roll sores Rock and roll sores...Sketch a little keyhole for looking-glass people You don't want to see him You only want to be him Mommy's got a scarecrow, gotta let the corn grow Man can't always reap what he sow<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Angel with the Scabbed Wings Pt. I<strong>

The Joker sighed and kept throwing his ball at the Plexiglas, making those walking past him very restless. They all probably thought he was slowly weakening the glass, learning its sounds and its weak points... but he was simply listening to the ball's rhythm while enjoying the expression of fear everyone was trying to hide.

The nurses and doctors looking apathetic, while the security guards looked tough. But they all had this cautiousness... all except one.

She was a small thing with immodest features. She wore her coat one size too small and buttoned a bit low, heels, and a high white skirt. The only professional thing about her was her bun and her glasses. Although even her glasses were close to being attractive. He wondered how she had not been raped or molested yet... unless she was a willing participant. Swimming with disease and who knows what else... ugh.

She showed absolutely no fear when she passes his cell, but she did slow her walking and her eyes snapped forward. He took to throwing his ball at her.

It was absolutely boring though. None is the doctors wanted to treat him due to the "strange nature of his check-in". Last time it was this easy he had taken over Arkham, so he was not going to be allowed out of his cell... but it's been a week and he was getting restless.

Until he saw a guard come to get him one night. Then, the Joker wanted to stay. Especially when he saw that his uniform was slightly undone. Someone had been _busy_ not too long ago. And that was always a threat with the guards in Arkham. But there was nothing the Joker could do but follow. If the guard tried something though... he already had 5 ways to kill him in mind.

But as they walked silently through the grey corridors of Arkham, the Joker realized they were going to the doctors' offices.

He smirked. Someone was being _very_ **naughty** to get him out of his cage...

The guard briskly turned and softly opened the door. "Doctor Franklin?"

The unprofessional doctor turned in her seat. "Thanks Caleb. Just sit him down there please."

_Caleb_ smirked and shoved the Joker into the seat and quickly winked at Dr. Franklin. Dr. Franklin stiffened in response. The Joker chuckled and laid back on the chair as the door clicked shut.

"Doctor Franklin, right?" he asked smoothly.

She nervously fixed her skirt. "Yes?"

"You have hair loose from your bun, you're flushed, your coat sleeve is wrinkled, and the blush you usually wear is wiped off. And considering you were going to be meeting _me_ tonight, I highly doubt you'd allow yourself to be so... ill-put together if you had time to prepare. Either you don't respect me –and I promise you if that's the case I'll make you _fear_ me –or someone just used themselves as a bribe to get me out of my cell and into their office." Her embarrassed blush and fidgeting made the Joker chuckle with delight. This was the most fun he's had in the sixteen days he's been here.

"Well Joker-"

"_Mr_. Joker if you will. I don't know you very well and I'd rather it if we did not skip the formality. Especially when we're here under such… _dicey_ circumstances."

"…I do not believe you've ever made any of your other doctors go through such formalities. Are you distancing yourself from me?" she asked, thinking she was slick. The Joker chuckled darkly, stealing away her newly found confidence.

He wagged her finger at her. "Tsk, tsk. You must be a rookie, but let me start you out. You never _ever_ give away your goal right off the bat, especially when there's such a lack of trust between the patient and the doctor. For example, would you trust me if I didn't have these cuffs on? And I wouldn't trust you not to report me if I told you I planned on killing one of the inmates here." His expression changed to teasingly innocent, "But to answer your question, yes I am distancing you from me. I'm afraid something will happen to you, and I'll lose you forever. Just like three of my previous doctors."

The Joker could see her cheeks turn pale and her confidence turn to mush as his smile turned from mockingly innocent to threateningly cruel… like a smiling, snarling dog. But she just wrote some things down in her notebook.

"Can you name those three doctors for me?" she asked casually, like the Joker hadn't just scared her to death. But he decided to play along.

"Of _my _doctors that have died at Arkham?" He laid his head back in thought and counted on his fingers. "Ortiz, Daniels, and Reeves."

"That's all?" she pressed. She probably didn't believe him… but why not let her figure it out herself?

The Joker thought hard about it but couldn't come up with anymore doctors whom he had killed. "Well, as far as I remember. Unless I was drugged or I simply can't remember them, in which case I don't count them."

"Why wouldn't you count them?"

"Well, if I can't remember it now, I can't relive it and enjoy it… now that's a shame isn't it?" he said darkly, but then perked up. "So if there are anymore that you know and you can give me a detailed story if you can, a police report maybe, then I would be glad to hear it."

The color had left her face again as she realized the underlying meaning of his words. He had _killed_ these doctors, but he _had gotten away with it_. The Joker guessed that the fact that doctors disappear all the time in Arkham just occurred to her. Poor girl. But after realizing her innocence, he became determined to break her mind as well.

"Or would you like me to recount one for you? Maybe you'd be interested in Reeves. I was in one of his sessions when he insinuated that he was cleverer than I was. Well, that simply wouldn't do. I pride myself on being insightful and conniving, so a threat to my pride like that would have to be taken care of. _Thoroughly_.  
>"So the next day on his way to lunch, yours truly was waiting for him in the lunchroom. I had no help getting out of my cell, like usual, and I was just standing behind the door eating a doughnut. I asked him if he noticed something funny with his coffee, or the doughnut he had eaten. He looked horrified, and I'll be honest, I <em>reveled<em> in it.  
>"But I wasn't going to be so simple. I gave him my doughnut and asked how it tasted. Well… <em>give<em> wouldn't be the right word. More like I _shoved it down his **throat**_." The Joker chuckled darkly as he thought back to the sound of the doctor trying to scream for help as he shoved the doughnuts deeper down his throat. Humans and their stupidity… shutting his loud mouth would have worked better. "Would you like to know how many doughnuts it takes to kill a man when they're going down his windpipe? It may come in handy when another one of those guards… come on to you.  
>"Now tell me my dear, do you think you're cleverer than me?" he asked narrowing his eyes at her.<p>

She cleared her throat, laid her notepad down, fixed her hair and cleared her throat, fighting for a way to say what the Joker wanted her to without giving him the upper hand no doubt. "Well Mr. Joker, I believe you have a very keen and resourceful mind. Clever is definitely too low of a word for you."

"That's all good doc… but I'm not asking about me. I'm asking about you." Narcissist.

"…Let's put it this way. If we were in a game of chess, you would definitely win."

The Joker smiled cruelly, sure of the pain that statement caused her. He decided to just play with her now. "Nice job saving yourself toots. I respect that. Giving yourself up to save your life. I would have done the same thing… if** I**_ weren't_ the raging sociopath. Maybe you are more clever than I am… no doubt you're more attractive."

The Joker saw her blush, but she cleared her throat to cover it up. "That's all well and good Mr. Joker but –"

"Please, just call me Joker."

"Alright… but that was not the point I was getting to."

"Than what was the point doc?"

She took a breath and went straight for the money. "What was your relationship with Harleen Quinzel?"

* * *

><p>Pfft. Harley an amateur psychologist? Look who wasl talking. . But that might also be my fault. ^_^;<p>

So, I hope you all like the direction this _might_ be taking... but who knows whats going to happen but me? :D

I know I know I promised insanity and it's _coming it's coming_ just be patient.

So now the question I bet some of you are asking... WHY THE HELL DID THE JOKER GO BACK TO ARKHAM? ARE YOU RETARDED? No I'm not... he went to the place where it all started to see where it would go. Perhaps it would lead to a replacement or another version of the Mad Love story? Stick around to find out. ^_^


	11. Angel with the Scabbed Wings Pt II

**A/N: **So, a little bit late but here's your weekly feed of the Joker's insanity and his "love" for Harley... even if she's gone. Anyways, so more of Abigail's point of view and her c**tiness. I don't really like the chapter since... idk it doesn't seem like my best work. It's a psychological interview and well... i know nothing of them XD So I just winged it. Abigail is supposed to be a s**tty psychologist anyways.

And if you lovely people wouldn't mind, please go to my profile and vote on a poll I have pertaining to a new story I'm working on involving Arkham City and... well its ending. Please vote and tell me your position.

Song: "Angel with the Scabbed Wings" by Marilyn MansonHe is the angel with the scabbed wings Hard-drug face, want to powder his nose He will deflower the freshest crop Dry up all the wombs with his rock and roll sores Rock and roll sores Dead is what he is; he does what he please The things that he has you'll never want to see What you're never gonna be now... Get back, you're never gonna leave him Get back, you're always gonna please him

* * *

><p><strong>Angel with the Scabbed Wings Pt. II<strong>

I groaned with exhaustion. I've been working with the Joker for almost a month and I've gotten nowhere. It was probably that initial screw up… I had hoped to crack him in the first session, but obviously that didn't happen. To make matters worse, every five sessions I had with him meant I had to screw the senior doctor signing off on my permission slips. The old geezer was getting more and more bold with me too.

On top of that the Joker wasn't giving me _anything_. I've been following Harleen's path pretty closely, but I couldn't seem to gain the same effect. What if it was just on a whim that the Joker gave her that insight?

God damn it all. That would mean I would need to start from scratch… I'd have to make my own plans, my own trail. And this one had seemed so perfect before…

I sat at my desk and began to stab file in front of me with a pen when it hit me… what if… I just cracked the egg from the inside? The Joker already admitted his discomfort with me being so similar to Harleen –as subtle as they are –so why not use the…

I dropped my head on my desk and stamped my feet in an admittedly childish manner. Harleen was close to the Joker, and the loss of her **must** have caused _some_ sort of pain that he's suppressing. As far as I can tell, that's the worst lost he's felt since his decision to separate from his emotional mind. But she's in his emotional mind… if I pull on that string and stir him around he'll shatter. He'll need guidance to put himself back together. And he'll be normal. _I'll_ have cured **the Joker!**

Now... I Just have to reach the inside by shattering the outside...

"So you don't feel like you have any emotions?" I pressed.

"Other than rage, madness, pleasure, joy, and emptiness... none that I know of," he answered mockingly.

"What makes you feel empty?" I asked.

"Boredom... a lack of stimulation if you will."

"What causes your rage?"

"...That's a long list doc-"

"Then start listing."

He groaned and counted on his fingers. "Ole Batsy, Arkham, Riddler, the cafeteria guy... or at least he did," he chuckled to himself which sent a shiver down my spine, "dearest Gordon, disobedience to me, a gun that jams... and losing."

"Have you lost lately Joker?" I asked casually.

"Ask the cafeteria guy when he comes back." With that he began to laugh at his own joke. I only grimaced. "Aw c'mon doc. You should smiiiile more."

I frowned. "Unlike you Mr. Joker I don't take poking a man's eyes out and using his sockets to flip him onto his back as a joke."

His smile turned cruel. "Would you like me to teach the humor to you doc?"

"No."

He seemed taken aback. "No?"

"No," I repeated sharply. I was getting annoyed with his ability to change the subject. I was starting his recovery **this** session.

"No need to get touchy doc." He lay back comfortably on the couch with his legs crossed. I grimaced. This usually signaled he was finished with the session.

"What gives you joy?" I asked, hoping to peak his interest.

He scoffed. "Success of course."

"Did Harleen give you joy?"

He sat up and glared at me. "Harley."

"Excuse me?"

"Her _name_ was Harley." He lay back down. "Harleen died a long time ago. Harley Quinn died two months ago. To the day actually."

"You seemed to care for her."

"I don't care for anyone. I'm a text book sociopath. I can't _feel_."

"But you went pretty ballistic when she was killed," I pressed. "No one goes that ballistic over something they don't care about."

"It's like a kid and a toy doc. Kid plays with the toy when they want to with no real attachment, but if some other kid were to break it the kid throws a tantrum nevertheless. Unfortunately for Giovanni and his group, this kid had a machine gun." He laughed again.

"Very nice metaphor..." I mumbled, upset he was finding a way to bullshit me.

He turned to me with a... charming smirk. "I knew you'd understand doc."

I frowned to keep from blushing and pretended to write something down. "She was responsible for some of your trips to Arkham as well though, was she not?"

"Many of them," he mused.

"And yet you kept her with you?"

"Now how could I say no? She was useful when I needed her."

"And she cared about you a lot from what I can see… I see many reports of abuse… many stories of your shows of _affection_, and_ a lot _of proof of her affection for you," I said while flipping through her file. "And you're telling me you never returned any of it?"

He pointed at himself with a smirk. "_Sociopath_. Remember doc?"

I grimaced. "I don't believe you can be a textbook sociopath Joker. You found Harley precious, irreplaceable, even pleasing."

He simply chuckled at my statement and sat back up, leaning forward, warning me. I smiled inwardly. I had struck a chord. "Now what makes you think that _doc_?"

I swallowed hard and summoned the courage to continue pushing him towards the brink. "You kept her around despite her failures, despite the fact that you obviously abused her, you never killed her, and when she_ was_ killed you took it out on about 80 people in about two months claiming you were trying to regain the fun you had lost when the harlequin died."

"Harley," he corrected sternly. But that's all he said. He made to attempt to rebuke me or to prove me wrong.

There it was.

"She must have been a special girl…" I commented blankly, trying to seem surprised he did so much for one girl. "You don't keep most people around very long… huh. I wonder what made her so special… was she _really_ unique? She dressed like a clown for you, she killed for you, she helped you in whatever adventure you wanted to go on… she would have gone to the ends of the earth for you. I'm sure if you let more people in… they would do the same."

"Jealous Franklin?" he purred. "Do you want my attention too? Do you want a chance to get smacked around?" That's when I realized how tense his hands were.

_Bingo._ "I just want to understand…" I whispered innocently. "I mean… I'm just as good as she was, aren't I?" _Just a little further… make him think of her_

"No Franklin. Harley was more than you could ever hope to be," he mumbled darkly. I felt like something stabbed me. Did he really just say I wasn't _as good as the fucking idiot who actually fell in __**love**__ with this sociopathic clown_?

"And why not?" I asked delicately despite my desire to slap him. Fuck him. But I was going to prove him wrong… just a few more minutes… and I'd prove I was **much** better than the girlish clown. He sighed and turned away. I softened my eyes and put the clipboard aside. _Stay in character… stay in character… _"Does it hurt Joker? Can I help?"

It was silent for a while… but I simply waited. "You're not my harlequin. You don't care… you can't help. I did everything I could to break her so she would leave…" I heard him scoff. "I _did _break her… but she wouldn't run. She just clung onto me and was determined to break me with her…"

_Hook line and sinker. _"Do you miss her?"

He turned back to me with watery eyes looking at the floor, but a hidden smile."She was the only one worthy of a sociopath's love… have you ever known someone adoring you so much that it scares them? That may be why she stayed…she knew no one else's love would be worth so much… because it's so rare. I hated showing it doc. I hate that they took her away … I hate that you figured out how I felt. But… I'm sure you understand how I feel." He sat back up and looked me in the eye, his eyes softening. "I'm sure you're worthy of that type of love. The rarest type of love." I couldn't stop the blood flying to my cheeks.

"Maybe…" I whispered.

I leaned forward, entranced by the loving stare he was giving me. Maybe… this was-

He pulled away suddenly and I wanted to pull him closer and stay there. But then the door opened. "We're here to take him off of your hands Dr. Franklin," an older guard remarked.

I sat back and composed myself. "Of… of course…" I looked back at the Joker. "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

He smiled a charming smile as they forced him onto his feet… and my heart skipped a beat. "I'll be looking forward to it toots," he replied, all signs of a slight emotional break through covered. _So close…_

They closed the door and I slid back in my chair and placed my hand on my chest. My heart was racing. That face… the face of a broken man had shined through, clear as day. And he had revealed that he cared for me… maybe the man underneath knew I was trying to get him out. He _wanted _help from **me**… while he had forced Harleen into the monster.

I smiled. Proof. Proof that I was better than Harleen Quinzel. I'd prove that I was worthy of such a love… and-

_Knock knock knock_. "Abigail, it's Joan. Can I come in?" called Dr. Blackwell.

I closed my file immediately and quickly tiptoed to my desk. "Of course Joan," I called sweetly. She walked in tentatively, as if unsure, before straightening up and frowning at me.

"Abigail… I'm concerned about you working with the Joker by yourself," she stated bluntly.

_You're underestimating me Joan_. "He's seemed harmless enough. It was hard to get him to talk at first, but then he's turned out to be very cooperative."

She shook her head. "Abigail don't be so naïve. The Joker is a manipulative sociopath who will do anything and everything he can to do get what he wants. I haven't figured out what he wants, but the fact that he's welcomed you into his mind so willingly…" she grimaced and sighed. "I'm recommending the termination of your sessions with the Joker."

My heart jumped. _No… I was too close._ It was time to cut the act. Once my face changed she noticed. "Joan, I'm not as naïve as you thin**k**. I have the Joker under my control. He's curable Joan, and I'm not as dumb as the Joker thinks I am. I have him broken in the palm of my hands at the moment… he's hiding it but I've got him."

"Abigail, the last intern who assumed he was curable-"

"Was a girlish idiot who fell head over heels for a man who didn't want help. This time he _wants_ help. The loss of his harlequin may have shocked the man inside into wanted to get out because he took her for granted. This is going to _work _Joan." I tried to sound innocent towards the end. She turned on her heels and was about to walk out when she turned her head back to me.

"This _isn't_ going to work out Abigail… not for anyone in this Asylum." With that she left.

Damn her… this was going to work. Perfectly.

I recovered from the shock the Joker gave me and started to plan for tomorrow. I was **not** about to make the same mistake Harleen Quinzel made… I was **not**going to give up this chance at fame just for a fake love. So what if it was rare! So what if no one else had it! He cared for me now… he trusted me now. I needed to use it…

But first I needed to solve this little problem Blackwell brought up. Time to go to the top.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** And thus, we have a broken (?) Joker in our story.

I know I know it's ALL over the place and I will try to fix it soon but I want you guys to get the basic idea. Next week's chapter will be MUCH better I promise. Want a hint? to what happens? What happens with you simply CRACK an egg and allow it to sit? I've already started writing it so it should be on time.


	12. Waking the Demon

**A/N: **I'm sorry this is so late. I was struggling with how to write this and I'm still unsure about it but I'm sure you're all DYING to know how this turns out. So I wrote this the best that I could... and honestly I think it came out pretty damn well. The idea is a bit confusing so I'll do the best I can to explain it at the end.

So this picks up right after the Joker leaves the office. It gets a bit confusing at one point so let me explain. Sadly,Dr. Franklin actually got somewhere and well... the Joker's insanity now has a purpose.

Song: "Waking the Demon" by Bullet for my Valentine  
>Helpless, My eyes are bleeding from the fear that's inside, You sealed your demise when you took what was mine, Don't try to stop me from avenging this world, No voice to be heard. Waking The Demon, Where'd you run to? Walk in the shadows, Watch the blood flow, There's not much longer, so don't try and fight... Caution, There's just no limits to the boundaries you push I warned you but still you just fuck with my mind!... There's no escape from this rage that I feel, Nothing is real! Breathe on me! Don't wake me from this slumber. Stay With me Possession taking over<p>

* * *

><p><span>Waking the Demon<span>

The Joker allowed the men next to him to lead him back to his cell without a word, which was strange because he usually taunted them with dark jokes about the murders he's commit over the past few months… and considering the numerous murders he has committed over the past few months the fact that he was so quiet was strange, but the guards barely noticed. They were preoccupied with trying to predict his movements.

The Joker wasn't thinking about them though… his mind was relaxing after nearly being snapped in half. He lay down on his cot and stared at the ceiling.

That stupid cunt… thinking she could burrow into his mind like that… the thought made him chuckle. The fucking narcissist… then again that narcissism was what saved him. She mentally **had** to include herself into her analysis. He'll admit she had gotten close when she started reminding him of what he had lost to the depths of the world… but then she implied that she could be worthy of taking Harley's place.

That implication would cost her her life… but his chest hurt too much for him to move. He wouldn't admit it, but the real reason he wanted to kill her so badly was because she had brought Harley back into his mind. He had blocked her out since he killed Jimmy and was enjoying being Gotham's least wanted bachelor… but all that bitch wanted to talk about was Harley and his feelings for her.

While thinking of Harley during their sessions usually didn't bring anything out… every now and then that determined _bitch_ would bring up something that meant more to him than she would ever understand. She would never understand any of it… and he had no plans to allow her to understand any feelings of love… ever.

But now he couldn't help but run Harley over and over in his mind.

Her high pitched voice and her annoying Brooklyn accent. The way she'd jump into his arms every chance she got. If he slapped her she'd always come back. If he was in pain she'd blow up half of Gotham just to comfort him and hold his head in her arms. And how he needed that right now... to be caressed... to be reminded that someone in the world actually cared for him.

She was the only person who understood the great joke of the world... and now he was just alone in the world. Not that he really minded... he didn't mind it at all... he had been alone before and he can be alone again.

But the truth was he was like the men in The Allegory of the Cave... he had seen the sun and his eyes will never adjust to the shadows of his cave again. He will never be able to get her laughter out of his head.

Damn it all... he wanted her back.

He curled up at the thought... creating a hole in his chest again. He wanted something that was impossible to get. It should be impossible for him to even think about, but here he was determined to shatter his heart again just by thinking about her touch.

He couldn't help but look down at his fire scarred hand. The touch he tried to erase remained on his hand despite his attempts to eradicate it. Her delicate little fingers sliding over his hand... but it was only a ghost of a touch.

He felt a tear on his cheek as he remembered how easy it had been to get her to touch him before.

"Harley..." he breathed quietly.

If he had wanted some human contact she was always there. If he wanted someone to take his frustration out on she was right there. If he wanted to celebrate with someone she would entertain him. He could make her laugh, dance, kiss, yell, scream, moan, fight, kill, stab, work, run, jump, cry, squeal, groan, frown, smile, pout, bite, scratch, kick, sabotage, scheme... She was the type of girl who could do it all! And she would only do it all for him.

And she made him happy sometimes... simply happy when he allowed it. Nothing else made him as happy as she did. Sure a run in with Bats made his day but the more he thought about it, having Harley in his life had made his life...

And now she was gone. And a fucking cunt of a doctor had made him cry over it.

He angrily wiped his tear away from his face.

The Joker wasn't a _CRY BABY_! How dare he... how dare **she**! Thinking she could break him. This was **HER FAULT**! It was _HER FAULT_ he was tearing up. It wasn't Harley's death... Harley's death didn't matter. He knew that. Harley Quinn didn't matter. Hell. Harley Quinn didn't even _EXIST_ anymore.

But a certain _DOCTOR_ _**DID**_! But not for long... oh no. Not for long.

He was going to kill her… he was going to tear her down to size then tear her apart. But that wasn't going to be enough… no. But for now… this was all he wanted.

He chuckled softly. She thought she was better than Harley? Well... Harley lasted seven _years_... this doctor wouldn't even last 7 _**WEEKS**_.

"Bullshit," the senior doctor remarked.

"It's true," I replied as I buttoned my shirt back up. I was due for another trip to refresh my permission slip and I had just refreshed it. Ugh what a bother. At least now he wouldn't even listen to Joan. No permission slip meant no legal sex for his impotent ass.

"I don't believe it. The Joker is a textbook sociopath-"

"He just has a dissociative personality. A trauma years ago caused him to split personalities. He's the unfeeling sociopathic Joker who we all **hate** _and_ a tortured man who's in too much pain to re-enter the world… _yet_."

He smirked. "I remember when Harleen bragged about curing the Joker. Look what happened to her."

I rolled my eyes. "Harleen Quinzel was an amateur and weak minded. Falling in love with the clown while he was still a sociopath..." I turned around to fix my hair, trying to cover the blush that was spreading across my face. I had almost fallen for that ticket to fame of a clown as well… but I would never admit it to anyone else. I was too good for that… to good for him. All he was was my trampoline to fame. A very good trampoline, but a trampoline all the same. I'd be done with him in a few agonizing months.

"I mean I've even been _using_ Harleen as a way to get into his head. A pawn. That's all she's been good at. Being a pawn... even after death."

"How do you know you're not just a pawn?" he questioned.

"You're the pawn here," I muttered under my breath.

I huffed and pulled my pants back on. It's not like I wanted the sociopathic love of the clown... no matter how rare it was. Not having that love definitely didn't make me less than that dumby... no way.

There was a sudden knock on the door that made us both jump. Dammit... I did NOT need this right now. We both hurried to compose ourselves and sat at his desk.

"Come in," the senior called out.

A foot slowly stepped out from behind the door and I felt my heart race with fear. No... No... there was no way...

The door slammed open. "GOOD EVENING FOLKS!" And there stood the Joker in all his dark glory, smiling his signature smile in his full attire.

"Joker..." I breathed in a panic as my heart began to race. How had he gotten his stuff back? _WHAT WAS HE DOING HERE? HOW DID HE GET OUT OF HIS CELL? WHY WAS HE HERE?_ Oh god why... why would he be here?

He faked a concerned face. "Oh I'm sorry... I hope I'm not intruding on anything pertaining to business." He chuckled darkly. "So… _this _is how such an amateur doctor has been able to interview me. Didn't your mother tell you not to put things in your mouth when you don't know where they've been, mister?" he teased as he wagged a finger at the senior doctor who was frozen in fear.

The Joker laughed again and closed the door behind him as he shook his head. "Really you two... I could hear you from all the way down the hall..."

Fuck, what had he heard? I needed to take control of the situation... he was probably just lost right now... he shouldn't be hard to manipulate. "Now c'mon Mr. J it's not what it seems..."

"Oh? Then _explain_ it to me doctor... because I'm sooo confused. I thought you were mine," he mocked before regaining his cruel expression with a chuckle.

What happened? I had cracked him during our session. He should be in his cell struggling with his new found emotions of pain and remorse, waiting for me to come back and help him figure out how to express them… no. He knew how to express them. He found his own way of coping.

I had played myself right into his hands... maybe if I…

"Now, Mistah J-" I tried to reason, imitating Harley Quinn's voice. Maybe if I seemed more like the clown he would be too dumbstruck to do anything and I could get out.

But instead of melting at the sound of her voice he immediately lunged at me with a furious expression, a switchblade pressed against my neck. How had he gotten a switchblade in a place like this?

"DON'T YOU **DARE** PUT YOURSELF IN HER PLACE! YOU **ARE** _**NOTHING**_ COMPARED TO HER! **DO YOU HEAR ME**! _**NOTHING**_! You're not even good enough to say her _name_… YOU CAN'T EVEN SAY _**MY**_ NAME RIGHT!" He shook us both with his words, forcing some strands of hair into his face, making him look all the more menacing. He had a grip on reality… he knew what was what and what he wanted now… and I had a good idea of what that was. I have given his sadistic mind a direct link to the pain and anguish he kept away from the world.

Oh god... what had I released?

The senior doctor took this chance to run for the door, but it was futile. The Joker was too fast with his knife. He threw it and it landed right in the man's neck, and we watched as he sputtered and fell to his knees.

I was in shock... watching a man die right in front of my eyes... but the Joker was simply enjoying the sight of blood flowing out of the wound and onto the old carpeting.

"Now," he said coldly as he grabbed my neck, making me shiver in fear, "we're gonna practice saying my name ok?" I nodded frantically. "Ok. So repeat after me... Mistah J!" he mimicked in an excited high pitched voice.

"Mi-mi..." I tried to swallow my fear. "Mistah J..." I squeaked in a less excited tone.

"No!" he bellowed and slapped me hard across the face and pulled me back up by my hair. It hurt... it hurt... I had never been slapped before... and it hurt. The tears I had been forcing back spilled over my cheeks and I began to sob. "Did that hurt?"

I didn't look at him, trying to hide my shame... damn him... Damn him...

"I **SAID**," he forced me to look at him, "did, it, hurt?"

I nodded quickly. "Yes," I whispered.

"Good… then maybe we can get some better results. Now… listen carefully," he cooed. Damn him. "Mistah J!"

"Mis…" I tried to adjust my voice again. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Mistaah Jay!" Crap… my voice broke.

"_**NO**_!" he bellowed and punched my cheek, hard. I cried out and he let me fall to the floor this time. I thought I could get up and crawl away but he had my face in his hands within the second I hit the floor.

"Wanna try it again?" he asked with a fake politeness.

"No… I can't say it… and it hurts…" I choked out. It did… this hurt. I couldn't do the voice… I couldn't act like his Harley Quinn. And I would pay for that lack of skill… I didn't have any other cards now… fuck. Where did this go wrong?

He faked a sympathetic face. "Aw I'm sorry. But you see..." he licked his lips, "Harley did that _every __**day**_. I slapped her, I beat her down, I scarred her, I burned her and I _BROKE_ _**her**_. And you know what she did? _Every, single, __**time**_?" I simply stared at him, barely able to comprehend his words. Was he saying I was weak? "She bounced right back. I could slap her and make her cry one minute, and then she could turn around with a strong face and push my men around. Can you win a one-on-one with batman? Can you get beaten close to _**death**_ and smile at the man after?"

He chuckled at my mental pain. "No _Joker_ I **can't** do that. But do you wanna know something? No one else **CAN**. You are going to be _alone_ for a long, long, _long_ time. You fucking piece of shit" And with that I spat in his face. I was tired of this… I was tired of him belittling me. I was too good for this… too good to let him do this to me.

He backhanded me hard, knocking me to the floor; then laughed as he wiped my spit off with his free hand. "Well, look who decided to let her narcissistic colors show... I guess if they let Crane work in here they would let another narcissist in here too... but this one is definitely _the amateur_, _weak-minded_, psychologist. A little _pawn_ to help me get out of here… I've decided…" he licked his lips again, "that I want to include as many people as I can into this little _game_ I have planned. And _you_, my little _pawn_, are going to be my first player."

He picked up a pen and pressed against my neck.

"Now, this is the part where you are supposed to scream."

* * *

><p>The Joker walked away with a huge grin on his face as the screaming started... one was feral and crazy while the other was scared and in pain. Dr. Franklin would finally get a one-on-one session with her young patient... with they work Dr. Franklin has been doing on her they both deserved some… girl talk.<p>

The guards heard it right away, but the Joker had Franklin's keys in one hand and his switchblade in the other. He felt so giddy while cutting them all down… he felt like Wolverine. And oh how he missed the feeling of slicing through skin. The thought that men were bleeding to their deaths behind him while others did their best to avoid him finally allowed his mind to relax into a familiar pattern. Murder. A murderous rampage was all he needed to feel better.

He didn't need to hurt himself. He needed to hurt others. That's what he was good at. And that's what he truly _loved_. Every time he heard the gurgled or pained screams of his victims, his thoughts were proven. He felt his mind feel less stressed despite being egged on.

To calm himself, he slid his hand into his coat pocket and touched a small item in his pocket. A little toy he had been hiding for a few years now. A little Plan C just in case things got too messy in Arkham… and it wasn't that things were too messy. He just had no use for this place anymore.

He just wanted to come back and start again… try to restart his mind to a time before Harley Quinn. To a time when he could laugh and kill and nothing would matter. There was no reason, no incentive to stop, and a mile of room for error when it came to his crimes. But then someone actually began to matter and he actually had to think before he jumped. Then she was gone and his crimes began to have a reason. Even worse, his crimes no longer got rid of the sickening feeling of remorse that were constantly trying to infect him.

He came back and pretended it had never happened. It worked for a while too. With the horrid repetition of life in Arkham Asylum it was easy to pretend that everything between their meeting and her death had never happened.

Unfortunately things didn't work out that way. They gave him a doctor who wanted to get in touch with his more sensitive side and he had. He had given them what they wanted... but like everything else he did –whether it worked out the way they planned or not –there was a price.

They took his Harley, so he killed off a mob gang, their families, and their associates.

Now they took away his "coping method" so now they were going to have to pay full price for his Harley Quinn. And a mere mob gang, their worthless families, and their meaningless associates and _their_ pitiful families did not come anywhere _close_ to paying off the debt.

The remaining bodies in Arkham didn't even make a dent in the payment owed to him for his heart.

"Speaking of Arkham," the Joker said to no one in particular. He was already far from Arkham Asylum.

His body had been working without his mind. Killing truly was a natural thing for him.

And he was about to do it again. He knew how Arkham was set up. He knew where the majority of the "normal" people were. He knew where they were brig evacuated. He knew where Harley's friends would be. Most would still be in their cells under heavy guard. Her doctor friends would be evacuating whoever they could from the same building.

He had decided to disarm those bombs.

He pulled out the detonator and began to laugh as he held it out for no one to behold. "This is for you baby," he growled.

He pressed the big red button.

Just as he knew it would, most of Arkham began to explode with little bombs planted in almost every building. He estimated about 380 dead.

He smirked and began to walk away, carelessly throwing the detonator behind him. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sauntered away. He smiled softly as he felt a smooth, bent piece of paper in his pocket. Right where he left it.

The feel of the paper, the feel of a wind from an explosion, the sound of sirens, and the smell of smoke. It gave him a bit of joy... but this joy was just more poison in his heart and his mind couldn't take much more of it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: So essentially, the idea is that Dr. Franklin **did** succeed in connecting the Joker's emotional mind and his sociopathic/sadistic mind but without the results that she wanted. Now his crime is going to have a purpose rather than just being what he wants. And from his repetition of the word "debt" it should give you a hint.

Also, for those of you who have no idea what Allegory of the Cave is, it's a story about men who lived in a cave forever and all they had for light was a fire. But their eyes were adapted and they could identify what things were just from that light or the shadows on the cave walls. One day, a few of them leave the cave and see the sun. When they go back in, they can't see anymore. Their eyes had seen a brighter light so they could never again accept the darkness. Their misery after that though does not compare to the Joker's pain though.

But it seems we are nearing the end my cherished followers... And so, hopefully I will have the last few chapters done by the beginning of May. How many of you will stay to see the end of the rabbit hole?


	13. The Man Without Fear

**A/N**: FINALLY! A new chapter! On the aftermath of the Joker's sudden realization. Will you enjoy it? Well, we have a slightly empathetic yet psychotic Joker and a **very** angry bat. So my guess will be yes. Especially since I'd have to say this is the 2nd best chapter in the series, but that's just me.

I'm **SO** sorry this took so long but I wanted to get this down _perfectly. _I had it ready on time but it was so... bleh. It was things happening with no motive or reason. Ew? I blame school. So I took my time, straightened out the thoughts and motives of the characters, and this chapter as born. (chapter #13 too). It's long, I know, but it **needs** the detail and I didn't want to split it up into two because what does that do? It makes you lovely people wait, even for the 2 or so seconds to get to the next chapter and I've made you all wait long enough.

Song used: "Man Without Fear"  
>Can you feel it The perfect day Scratch the leaves The paper tears The world I'm feeling start giving away A perfect day Suddenly your rule the universe You can't beat me (NO) You can't bring me DOWN! I lose everything Can I dream... Suddenly youre shot irreparably Everything was evil now clear I hear the darkness without sound I am The Man Without Fear... Justice is blind..but I trust you<p>

* * *

><p><strong><span>Man Without Fear<span>**

Batman stood in the rubble that was once Arkham Asylum. The fire department was still busy putting out a few fires, the GCPD was still pulling out bodies, doctors were still busy treating anything they could, Nightwing was still busy catching escaped patients, and what was Batman doing? He was trying to find an alternative solution to this problem.

"He's broken the five hundred mark. In just about three months. Batman, that's over a hundred a month," a solemn, old voice stated plainly from behind him.

"I know Gordon," he replied simply. He knew the numbers, he knew the names, he knew the faces, he knew the methods, and he knew that this was _his_ fault.

"The city is starting to call for blood. Almost everyone personally knows someone who's died in this killing spree," Gordon pointed out coldly.

"He's even killed outside of Gotham..." Batman stated coldly.

He felt Gordon's fists clench in frustration and his teeth go on edge. "God damn it. Why can't we just call the army in? The FBI? Someone to help us catch this son of a bitch for _once_?" he growled angrily.

"Because no one wants to believe the Joker can become a national problem... no one else can even pin the murders outside of the city on him. He hasn't left any physical evidence that we can use against him."

"What about those people who burned in that building! That was _JUST_ outside the city limits! Who else could have the nerve to pull that off! Who else could have gotten away with that! We already _KNOW_ who did it! WHY CAN'T WE NAIL HIM?" Gordon shouted at Batman angrily. But Batman didn't hold it against him. He knew he just needed to blow off some steam... they all did. When Batman didn't react, Gordon straightened up and composed himself. He lit a cigarette and turned to walk away. "I'm ordering a massive man search, and ordering my men to take a kill shot if they get the chance. We have the grounds."

Batman turned his head fractionally, but didn't respond or try to stop him. He knew it would be futile. He was angry. He was frustrated. And he was out of options. As he looked at the disaster around him, he realized they all were.

He called the bat mobile to him, hopped in, and drove away from the scene. "What do we have Alfred?"

"Well sir, it seems he had been given therapy sessions with yet another ambitious intern. Abigail Franklin. She had narcissistic tendencies, and seems to be completely lacking in skill to be allowed to work with the Joker."

"Seems like she was giving favors for handouts," commented Dick, annoyed.

"How's progress Nightwing?" Bruce asked.

"Slow. These guys are hiding like roaches. It's like they know something big is coming."

Batman narrowed his eyes as fear dropped in his stomach like a stone. He felt it too. Something dark and heavy was in the air, and he didn't like it. Perhaps it was just knowing the Joker was out in Gotham again, but it could also be his knowledge of the Joker telling him something he didn't consciously know. "Nothing else is going to happen. Not while I'm in charge," he pledged. Heard Dick's soft sigh of disbelief and felt Alfred's doubt. He felt his own cold doubt touch his heart, but pushed it away.

No. Next time the Joker tried something, he was going to stop him. He was going to stop him. He was going to stop him, make the city feel safe again, and make it so the Joker could never hurt anyone again.

_**9 months later**_

Bruce Wayne sat at his computer again, simply looking at the pieces of evidence staring him down.

There had been 6 possible Joker sightings in the last 7 months. One at a gas station, one in a hardware store, one story from a black market dealer/murderer, one at a grocery store, another in the mall, and the last one had been in an office building nearby Wayne Industries' building.

He had pictures or video of four -the mall turned out to be a teenager with green hair –which confirmed the grocery store, the office building, the gas station, and the hardware store. In the hardware store he bought a large hose, the gas station he bought 2 gallons of gas, and at the grocery store he mostly bought goodies that would last a child about 3 years. All of it was legally paid for, even if the transaction was at hidden gunpoint.

Bruce knew right away that this was going to be a fire, but he had few ideas where. Even worse, he had no idea where the Joker was. During the past 9 months all he's done is focus on anything to do with the Joker. He had interrogated almost every thug he could about the Joker, but no one seemed to know anything. Any lead he could find, he would use it until every last angle was spent. And there were still no leads.

Gordon's manhunt had done little more than nothing. They found bodies, kidnapped kids, murderers, Arkham escapees ect. but nothing on the Joker.

Then his eyes flickered to the files taken from Arkham about his last visit. Most of the papers from that visit were gone or burned. Some of the notes had Franklin saying the loss of Harleen Quinzel put him at risk for suicide, that he felt some sort of remorse for his abuses, and that he could be broken and reborn. He also found Quinzel's notes in a senior doctor's office with a few notes scribbled onto them by Franklin. Batman took them before anyone else could find them. He entered them into the batcomputer and burned them, taking special care that no one could ever find them outside the cave.

Fortunately, after the doctors determined that the Joker could have been suicidal and may have –after the many months –commit suicide, the whole city relaxed a bit. But the party clown business was gone from Gotham City anyway.

But the Dark Knight new better. The Joker may be miserable for some reason, but suicide wasn't his game. He was too narcissistic to die too intentionally. He liked the world to prove he could not be killed.

So here Bruce was, trying to predict the Joker's next move once again.

Franklin had tried to force the Joker into feeling "human" by forcing him to feel empathy over Harley's death. Then, she planned on helping him put the pieces back together again. Unfortunately, she didn't realize she didn't have enough of his trust for him to even consider allowing her to help him. So his mind saved itself in the only way it knew how: by venting his emotions in a wave of pain and destruction.

He wasn't sure how much pain and destruction the Joker needed to create to feel satisfied, but he was sure it was more than the city of Gotham could ever give.

J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~

The Joker looked down and frowned at the city. At how lovely of a day it was... traffic was going smoothly, the sun was shining through the smog, the people were merely chattering than shouting, and everyone seemed mildly pleasant...

And he had every desire to destroy it. A lovely little plan that would let him turn this goodness into a puff of smoke.

He finally stood up from his perch on top of some building, and looked down over the edge. People. A lot of worthless, disgusting people were coming out to lunch. A lot of miserable, pointless beings were walking around doing errands. A lot of wasteful, detestable creatures were working inside of every building.

And all of the creatures were soon going to _**scream**_.

At that idea he began to laugh. His evil, signature laugh that everyone knew and dreaded. Everything stopped, and all of the smiling faces turned to those of horror. Women screamed and began to run. Cops began to call for back up. Men began to run out of their cars. Animals began to run into buildings. Perfect.

"Oh... this is going to be a GREAT day."

J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~

Bruce Wayne had just been sitting in his office when he heard the news: The Joker was finally back.

He was dancing on a building about four blocks away in broad daylight. The Joker had never been one to hide when he wanted to be seen, but he knew that if the Joker wanted to be seen, there was nothing good coming.

He ordered an immediate evacuation of his building, helping everyone stay calm. The moment, he was outside, he made sure everyone was heading in the right direction. Screw his playboy persona. He knew better than anyone how dangerous the Joker was at the moment.

Unfortunately, he wasn't sure what the Joker wanted. The Joker had shown the many things he could be… and it wasn't clear what he was now. Based on Franklin's notes and his own knowledge of the Joker he assumed the worst, but hoped he was wrong.

"Where are you going?" he shouted angrily at one of his employees, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders. Her brunette hair was tied up in a neat bun, her outfit fit for the office. He knew her as a secretary he had forced onto one of his board members.

She put her index finger to her mouth in a nervous motion. "I… I've never seen the Joker… I thought…" she mumbled, but obviously realized how ridiculously _stupid_ she sounded. Bruce gripped her shoulders in frustration, but he understood. Of course she would be curious about the Joker… everyone was.

"You're better off not going," he growled in a low voice. "Now go!" he said firmly, shoving her in the opposite direction. She looked back regretfully, and then turned to run with the rest of them. Bruce watched her for a moment and sighed inwardly. Human nature… it was a strange thing.

His thoughts were interrupted by a well known, unwelcomed laughter.

J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~

The Joker watched in disgust as the herd began to scatter. They didn't run farther away though. That was too far sighted for a herd in panic. They ran into buildings, or ran behind cars like cockroaches. They simply went to the first place they could find. He'd wager that if he dropped a boulder on a car, he'd kill at least five.

Figures. Thousands of years of evolution and they were all still live stock waiting for the slaughter.

The idea forced a smile on his disgusted face. Then his smile became mischievous… evil if you will. He suddenly became anxious for Batman to arrive. He could hear the sirens of police cars and squad cars but he didn't care. They wouldn't get there in time. The only person who could get there in time was–

"Joker!" a voice bellowed from behind him.

Speak of the devil! "Bats you should take a look at this!" he shouted playfully without taking his eyes off of the scene playing out below him, his mood suddenly lightening. "These people are acting like chickens without heads! I mean they're trying to _hide!_ Can you _believe_ that? You see that car right there?" he chatted while leaning over the edge, "I bet if I dropped a boulder right on top of it I would kill five people… or I could drop you." With that he began to laugh, but he knew the Dark Knight wasn't laughing. He knew he was calculating his options and possible sequences of events. Himself? He could only hope his plan worked.

"What are you doing Joker?" he asked bluntly.

The Joker turned his head, a wicked smile on his face. "Collection day Bats. Gotham has a debt to me, and now it's time to pay," he growled the last part darkly, his smile widening ever so slightly at the idea of repayment and he could see the worry flash across Batman's face.

The worry was only replaced by anger. "So… you're using Quinn as an excuse to go on a _rampage_?" he asked, outraged.

The Joker felt a twinge in his chest. It was annoying, feeling emotions. What was this? Anger? Guilt? Insult? He wasn't sure, but he kept his smile as the feeling gave him a renewed sense of purpose. "Righto-runey!" he said excitedly.

Something new flashed across Batman's face. A memory perhaps, the Joker decided. It was fleeting, but it had been there. It was then replaced by a new fury. The Joker chuckled… he was close now.

"Had a soft spot for my girl eh? Naughty, naughty Bats. She wouldn't have liked you anyways. You don't have the sense of humor she needed," he joked. But before Batman could take a step forward, the Joker hopped onto the ledge and pulled out an item from his pocket. The Joker knew Batman would recognize it… it was a small but very effective napalm bomb.

"I wouldn't Batman… There are still _a __**lot**_ of people down there," he teased while holding the bomb over the edge so Batman couldn't use his baterang. Batman obviously backed down a bit, thinking about his possible moves. How cute. "Now that's a good boy… but honestly Bats. You should know better," he commented with a cruel smile.

As the Joker dropped the small bomb on the people below, he began to laugh. Batman shot a line into the building across the street and zoomed past the Joker. The Joker smiled as he went past, knowing what he would do. He would let go of that lovely toy of his, zoom down and catch the miniscule napalm bomb. The Joker would be backing away to the middle of the building quickly, but time would slow for the both of them as they calculated their next moves. Batman would have caught the napalm bomb and would be shooting his grappling hook into the side of the building to pull himself back up. When the Joker made eye contact with the Batman, his cruel smile would grow as he pressed the big red button. He wouldn't give the Dark Knight a chance to stop him. He knew the Dark Knight would look around, alarmed, trying to find what the control activated.

A few buildings down, there was a large pipe disguised as a ventilation system. Suddenly, a look of panicked understanding would pass through the Dark Knight's face.

Does anyone want to know what the Joker had been doing over the past nine months? He spent 4 months perfecting an undetectable accelerant, 2 months figuring out how to spread it over three square blocks of Gotham –9 blocks in total –and would decide to do it himself, then he would spend 3 months walking around Gotham's streets and buildings.

And now he anxiously awaited to reap what he sow… death.

Before he knew it, his fantasy had finally come to life after months of waiting. Then he noticed Batman, the key piece to his plan, was trying to fly away.

J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~

"**NO**!" Bruce Heard behind him. Before he could go off and try to stop this tragedy, there were hands on his shoulders trying to pull him back. He immediately elbowed the assailant in the face. Right after he did, the screaming began and he knew it was all over.

He didn't look behind him as a wave of fire took over Gotham… no. He was too focused on trying to beat the Joker to a pulp. No matter what thoughts went through his mind, he couldn't stop hitting him.

Unfortunately, as much as he hated the Joker, it wasn't always him Bruce was hitting. Every now and again, in a fleeting vision, he was hitting himself.

_STUPID AND CARELESS!_

He had promised… he had sworn... to himself and to Gotham that he would never let the Joker get away with something like this again. That he would protect the people of Gotham. And now… and now… _**this**_! Everywhere he looked there were flames. Everywhere he listened, there was screaming. He could smell the scent of burning human flesh and it sickened him. It sickened him that it was this _**monster**_, this smiling _**monster**_ that he had allowed to live for so long, that had caused everything.

But there was still one more promise that he could keep… one last part…

He punched the Joker in the nose, temporarily disorienting him as he punched him in the chest as hard as he could, sending the demon clown flying across the roof and onto the ledge. Batman couldn't help but appreciate the sound of cracking bones… the grunts of pain… but it was only a miniscule fraction of everything he wanted to do to this damn _clown prince_.

He wanted to drop him into the chemical mixture again, allowing his skin to burn, then sick dogs on him, before beating him down with a crowbar, then shooting him in the spine to paralyze him, then slowly peeling off any skin left to leave his mind open to every single piece of mental torment Batman could think of… and that was a lot. And before the Joker died, Batman planned to do nothing. Nothing but leave him in a cell deep underneath Gotham. Just leave him there, and allow him to drive himself completely mad before dying. Maybe the rats would start eating him before he died… attracted to the scent of rotting blood and a dying evil.

But for now, he settled for picking up the Joker's broken body by the neck and letting him dangle over the edge. The Joker's face was bruised and bloodied. His nose, ear and mouth were leaking blood after such a beating and his cheek had an obvious cut from where he had punched him; but for some reason he was still smiling. Smiling joyfully like a child on Christmas morning. That was the most sickening thing of all.

"This is a warm spot…" the Joker joked weakly, referring to the flames below him. Still with an eternal smile.

"Do you realize what you've _done_ Joker? Do you understand all you have _ever_ done? All you've ever done is cause death and destruction! I've given you every chance… I've given you **every** chance to change! I've allowed you to _live_ and yet you _still_ continue to kill… we can't do this anymore," Bruce growled. He couldn't believe this… he _had_ given the Joker countless chances, but he knew he would never take them. The Joker didn't care. Batman didn't expect him to start caring now. He never expected him to care. But Bruce did. Bruce always did… Batman had created this monster… and it was time to put him down.

The Joker then began to laugh. Not an evil laugh, but a small chuckle. "Do it then. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," he said with a smile. It was only then that Batman noticed the tears flowing down the Joker's face, and his hand clenching onto something inside his jacket pocket.

Batman's intentions suddenly changed, and the Joker must have seen it because his smile finally dissolved into an angry frown. He began to struggle in Batman's grip, but Bruce wasn't having it. He threw the Joker back onto the roof and punched head right away, knocking him out cold. With the Joker still, Batman watched him for a moment before leaning down and began searching him.

The Joker had no weapons on him. No knives. No guns. No ropes. No piano chords. No Joker bombs. No corrosives. Not even a Joker card. The only thing he had in his many pockets… was a bloodied, creased picture of him and Harley.

Batman's eyes widened at the unconscious Joker. He had wanted to die. He wanted to die… because he had lost his harlequin. Harley Quinn had died over a year ago… today was the day they would have met now that he thought about it. It would have been their anniversary.

Gotham had a debt to pay he had said… they took his Harley Quinn, so he wanted them all to die for Giovanni's mistake. Dr. Franklin had unlocked the Joker's feelings for Harley, so suddenly she was worth more to him than anything else. Even more than chaos. The deaths today were Harley's anniversary presents… an apology present for not being able to save her. He would kill thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, just to say _I'm sorry_…

Bruce's chest felt heavy as he realized that the Joker hadn't become some rampaging, homicidal maniac. He had just become a man who had too much pride to kill himself, but no reason to live. He was sad. He was pained. He was lost. But despite the sudden change, it was no excuse. No excuse for the thousands of lives lost today.

Batman looked down at the flaming streets of Gotham. Burned corpses were everywhere. The fires were still burning and no one wanted to touch them. It was a sorry sight… a sight that made him hate the Joker more than ever… but as he looked down at the picture again he realized something.

The Joker now felt some sort of empathy. While not all life was worth that of Quinn's, it was obviously worth something since he gave so many to his dear clowness. He knew it was wrong… he knew people would suffer. He just thought it was worth it for her.

J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~

When the Joker finally awoke, he was furious. He was obviously still alive. Nevermind that his whole body felt like he had been burned in the fire, but he was _**still alive**_... alive in a solitary confinement cell in Arkham no less. Damn it… he should have just blown the whole damned place to hell. No one needed to live anyways. And that included him.

But the more he thought about it, the more he figured he'd be dead anyways. He just created a chemical fire that burned thousands alive. Maybe the federal government would get involved and decide he was unfit to live. Or maybe a few vigilantes will finally decide enough was enough. Batman obviously failed to see that. He had hoped to go out in a chariot of fire and hate, but batbrain had chickened out last minute… even when he wanted to die. Why not just get rid of the biggest problem in your life if it's begging to be put out of its misery? It seemed reasonable.

"So he'll remember nothing…?" the Joker heard a doctor ask.

"Yes. Just inject him with this and the events of the past year will be lost from his memory… it's an old toxin from Scarecrow. This one seemed to actually affect the Joker. I've refined it so it won't have its unwanted side effects, but it should still work."

"I don't understand why we don't just get rid of him…" This was Commissioner Gordon. At least _someone _had some sense…

"HEAVENS NO!" the doctor shouted. Damn it… "He's a patient of Arkham. We don't _euthanize_ our patients. We cure them."

Commissioner Gordon mumbled something, but the Joker couldn't hear him. But he could sense ole Batsy's displeasure. He knew the thought of killing him was still on his mind, but he also knew that he would never go on with it. He should have just gone to Gordon… but he knew that wouldn't have been _nearly_ as exciting. Suicide by cop. What a joke.

"Batman… will the Joker have any of the… emotions he has now? I think we could make a lot of progress with him in this state of semi-empathy."

"Doctor, he's too focused on the loss of Harley Quinn. In the sate he's in he can't be cured. All that will occur is his thoughts of Harley will snowball and destroy him again," the Joker felt another twinge in this chest. "We can't risk it. He won't remember any of it. With any luck, when he wakes up he'll remember nothing. He'll be back to his apathetic self."

Apathetic self… which meant that he would begin to deny Harley again. No. She was better than that. He wanted to remember her. He wanted to feel for her. He wanted to give her what she was worth. He wanted to live with this pain rather than live with the apathy again.

Those pigs already stole her... they weren't about to steal everything she had given him

He sat on his cot, seething. Seething hatred, sadness, and anger from every pore in his body. He could taste it in the air. The taste was a constant reminder of what was coming.

He heard men coming towards him. It wasn't Bats... the steps weren't heavy enough. It was just creatures coming for him. The same type of creatures who had screamed before. That was the only time they made him happy... the only time where they seemed beautiful... when they screamed.

Unlike Harley, who seemed beautiful even when she was smiling at something completely human.

He wouldn't forget her, he thought as Harley ran through his mind. He'd never allow it.

He looked around frantically, looking for a way to win. A way to remind himself. He knew himself. He always expected Harley to help him. He always knew where she was. And if he didn't? He wouldn't know Harley was dead. He needed to remind himself.

He jumped up on his cot and started to claw on the walls. It needed to be short. It needed to be vague. It needed to remind him.

As the echoes got louder and louder he scratched faster, the letters barely visible but he knew he'd see them. He had to. Once he was done, he quickly sat back down as the steps stopped in front of his cell.

"Hello boys," he greeted darkly when they stepped into his cell. Two orderlies and Dr. Arkham. He hated them all already. And he made sure they knew it.

"Joker," the doctor greeted solemnly. "We're going to try a new medication on you. It may help you... cope with your feelings of aggression and desire for murder. It's helped a few others."

"I don't want it," the Joker growled.

"You don't have a choice..." the doctor replied, then nodded for the men to handle the Joker. The moved quickly to pin him down, but the Joker was quicker.

He stood up and knocked his head into one, forcing him to hit the wall, then as the other attempted to knock him into the cot the Joker bit into neck until blood flooded into his mouth right after the man began to scream. When someone pulled him away, a new orderly perhaps, a chunk of flesh came with him. He spat it out at the brute and he let go immediately, disgusted. Suddenly two muscled bodies forced his shoulders on the cot and let his back hit the metal. He ignored the pain and continued to struggle, excited by the pained screams fading into the distance.

But he felt the panic bubble in his chest when someone forced his arm still. "No! NO! HARLEY! HARLEY! LET ME GO! HARLEY!" he shouted, willing his shouts to burn into his mind.

He felt something cold and sharp touch the underside if his arm. With the bulky figures blocking his view he wasn't sure what it was in his state of panic, but everything inside of him screamed for him to get away all the same.

Somewhere in a rational part of his mind, where the adrenaline hadn't turned him into caged animal, he knew struggling was useless and stupid. Too human for his liking. But he didn't care.

The rest of his brain was still screaming. Screaming for release. Screaming for safety. Screaming for survival. Screaming for the only person who could cause this sort of reaction.

Suddenly the object pierced his skin, burying itself in his body. But even that didn't stop his struggles. He grit his teeth, bore with the pain and continued to struggle with all his might, screaming loud enough that the men in the room began to reek with fear.

Slowly though, his strength to fight decreased and his shouts became murmurs. Soon enough, the room began to blur. The orderlies slowly pulled away from the Joker, letting him slump to the floor. He glared up at them all, but focusing took herculean effort. He was becoming less and less sure of what he hated them all for in the first place. Even his hatred for them was fading away.

He was hardly aware that he was being picked up into the cot.

"Keep him sedated for the next few weeks. Treat his cuts and broken bones as quickly as possible. I don't want him waking up until there's no physical evidence of the events that happened in here. And clean this mess up," the doctor ordered condescendingly.

"You didn't give him the full dose doctor," someone pointed out.

"No, I didn't. Hopefully we'll be able to work with his feelings of empathy after all of this..."

"But Batman said-"

"I DON'T CARE WHAT HE SAID! We can _**cure**_ him... and we're going to give it our best shot."

In the Joker's mind he laughed. Another one… another one… but they didn't matter. They never mattered. Only one mattered. And she was…

_**Gone**_

_**J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~J~B~**_

The Joker groaned as he got up, swinging his leg over the bedside with one thin arm laid over his thighs and the other hand holding his head. Dear God it hurt.

He frowned. It would seem someone gave him a serious ass kicking... but then he smiled. If someone gave **him** an ass kicking than someone must now be handicapped. But sadly, he had no recollection of what he did...

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Do I even need to say anything? Well I do need to say one thing... who can find the spoiler to the end of my story? ;) [don't spoil it for everyone else please]


	14. Interlude: I Didn't Say I was Powerful

**A/N**: So this is just a little interlude because 1. The next chapter is gonna take me a while because it's... a type of Joker that I haven't really seen done and I'm trying to make it work the best I can without completely killing the Joker's character 2. This is a part of the story that I thought a lot of you would be interested in since most of you seem really into the relationship between the Joker and Harley Quinn.

This chapter is basically what happened right after Harley's final trip to the doctor. It's going to be a very different Joker from the most recent versions you've seen so I apologize for the jumping back and forth but I really want to show you guys how much the Joker has transformed as the story went on. Plus, I want you guys to know all of the memories that hit the Joker before I go back to the present. Yes, after this chapter we're going back to the Joker in his smelly Arkham cell.

**Song used**: "I Didn't Say I was Powerful, I Said I was a Wizard" by Chiodos  
>And the moment that she left the room the album started skipping. Goodbye to beauty, shared with the ones that you love. A shadow that has fallen over this town. A shadow that has fallen over this town... A final opinion is of less value than an appreciation of and tolerance for obscurity<p>

Theatrics, all made up and pianos all playing at once through the dust  
>I found it difficult in my excitement to keep from floating off<br>To keep from floating off and off and off

I'll rest on nets made by spiders fed on drug dosed flies  
>The spider sings alone<br>The spider sings alone  
>He paced the room with hurried steps<br>And placed his hands upon his head  
>As if he were afraid<br>His thoughts were bursting from his brain

* * *

><p><span>I Didn't Say I was Powerful, I Said I was a Wizard<span>

The Joker paced restlessly in front of the warehouse door, fully aware of how risky the procedure inside was. Harley had lost a lot of blood and might not be strong enough to take amnesia for surgery to make sure she wouldn't die of the pain or whatever. He grimaced when he realized how concerned he was, but he didn't care and kept on pacing.

It was probably nothing anyways. It was just his toy may have been broken by someone else… yes. That was a real problem now wasn't it? He had let someone else break his toy… that was a real problem… No one was supposed to break his toys but _him_… unless he set it up that way. But if that's the case it was a toy breaking another toy and well, that was still him breaking his toys anyways.

He suddenly stopped and sighed.

Back to the matter at hand, whether Harley died or not, the fact that someone had played with his toy was _absolutely unacceptable_. He needed to make sure they paid for it. But how? Killing them certainly wouldn't do it. Killing their families wouldn't do it… well, maybe that would. Beat him up nice and good, then tie him up by his wrists and make him watch his family slowly suffocate from a hangman's noose. Make him cry, make him scream, and once the last one had died then he'll torture him.

But what if he didn't have a family? Now that'd be a problem… considering he was on such a dangerous job, he probably didn't have many friends inside the mob. Maybe no friends at all… poor sucker. The thought made the Joker chuckle.

Suddenly he heard the door open and the doctor stepped out with blood on his hands. The Joker narrowed his eyes at him. He was solemnly wiping his hands off on a towel which sent alarms off in the Joker's mind.

"How's she doing doc?" he growled as his heart raced. Something was poking through at the back of his mind, but he focused on keeping a calm composure.

"She lost a lot of blood Mister Joker…"

_No._ The Joker rushed over and grabbed the doctor by his jacket and lifted him up off the ground. "What are you talking about? She was smiling just a minute ago- "

"There was nothing I could do-"

The Joker threw him to the ground and rushed inside.

The main source of light inside was swinging just above Harley. He went straight to her side, then paused. He narrowed his eyes at her still form. Her eyes were closed, her head turned slightly, her costume more torn than he remembered, and more bloody as well. His fists clenched reflexively, then one hand slowly, shakily moved towards her. Eventually it found its way to her neck and he felt for a pulse.

None.

He moved his fingers a bit. "No," he growled.

None.

"No!" he growled more desperately. He quickly grabbed her wrist and pressed down his thumb hard and waited.

Nothing.

He grabbed her body roughly by the shoulders and began to shake her. She wasn't gone. She couldn't be gone. He wouldn't allow it. "WAKE UP! You useless shit! I told you to wake up! Did I say you could sleep! NO! I never said you could sleep! Now WAKE UP! You can't do shit without me! Do you hear me! You're nothing without me! You can't leave! You _can't leave_! _**You**_ don't get to leave! _I _leave **you**! Do you hear me! This is not how things work you fucking bitch!"

"Mister Joker!" the doctor shouted, rushing to stop the Joker.

The Joker quickly pulled out his gun his gun and pointed it at the doctor. How dare he… no one else was going to disobey him tonight. Anyone else who tried to defy him was going to die. He had told him to fix her! He had told her to save her! He told her what was wrong with her but his _incompetence _had cost him a _toy_! **A toy!**

"What! HAPPENED!" he yelled.

"I- I told you. She was very weak–"

"I told you to save her! And now she's _dead_!" The Joker's jaw set as his anger threatened to boil over. He aimed at the doctor and enjoyed how he coward in fear… but soon he was done enjoying the doctor's fear. He wanted him dead and bleeding on the floor, his brain splattered all across the floor.

But even as he pictured this delightful scene, he couldn't seem to pull the trigger. He wanted to, he wanted to very much, but as he tried to pull the trigger he found that a light warm touch wouldn't let him.

So… he was going to listen to Harley's last wish? What a joke. But it was a joke he started to laugh at. It started out as a chuckle, but soon became a full blown laugh. He doubled over laughing, holding a hand to his chest. When he stopped laughing, he found the doctor shivering in fear.

And fear always put a smile on his face. "Aww cheer up Doc… you get to live," he bent down and offered his hand to the doctor. The doctor hesitated, but eventually gave the Joker his hand.

The Joker pulled the doctor forward so he was in his face. "MADE YUH LOOK!" he shouted and struck the doctor across the face with the butt of his gun with as much force as he could muster. The Joker let go of the doctor's limp hand and walked away laughing at the top of his lungs, closing the door behind him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I'm sorry you all had to relive Harley's death, and I'm sorry that the Joker didn't take her death as seriously as I'm sure many of you wanted him to, but when he's still at this stage he's trying to avoid his feelings for her. He understands that he's important, but once she dies he does her best to write her off and run away from it until she catches up with him when he gets home.

But either way I hope you all enjoyed a bit of his reaction and the hints that he cared. I'm hoping to be done with the next chapter sometime this weekend. It will once again be featuring Batman, but no. It will not be the last one. There are going to be another 2/3 chapters for a total of... 16 or 17 chapters. Hopefully you'll all like the ending. ^_^


	15. Discovering the Waterfront

**Discovering the Waterfront**

The Joker finally opened his eyes and realized his hands were close to tearing his face off. He slowly pulled them away from his face and he realized they were trembling. He stared at them for a while, unable to think. He didn't know what to do now. Some time ago, he was no longer sure how long ago, he felt nothing but rage and annoyance.

But now… but now… he couldn't even identify the emotions running through his head. It was all such a blur… things had moved too fast… even for him.

From a sitting position on the floor he looked up at the wall… wondering if it was all just a dream. Maybe it was all just some sick dream. But there it was, staring back at him, solidifying every idea that had passed through his mind over the past year. He put his hands back to his face, trying to hold it together before it melted off…

And screamed. It wasn't a pained scream. It was a scared scream. Just a scream. There was no reason behind it, just a need to scream.

When he stopped he launched himself at the door and started beating his fists against it. "GET ME OUT! GET ME OUT! GET ME OUT! HARLEY! GIVE ME BACK MY HARLEY!" He heard footsteps echoing from down the hall.

So… they were finally coming. Was it such a threat that he was screaming for his love? Was it so scary that he had remembered the pain they had caused him over a year ago? As he thought about it he decided: yes. It was very scary that he had regained his emotions.

But they didn't seem to understand, nor did he expect them to, that he didn't care for repayment. Not right now anyways… he just wanted out. And from the sound of keys, he was going to give it to him.

A crazy smile spread across his face and he began to shiver with insane, restless laughter. Harley had helped him get out. She was dead and still she helped him escape Arkham flawlessly. They always just made it so easy. All of them just made it so easy…

Once they opened the door he jumped. It was just two of them. Both wearing vests and helmets… not that it would save them. The Joker jumped on the one who had opened the door and wrapped his legs around his waist and began beating his hands against his helmet like it was a drum. The guard yelled and scrambled to get the Joker's crotch out of his face, obviously forgetting anything that they had taught him in the academy.

After some struggling and yelling, the Joker finally removed the man's helmet, and looked into the man's terrified eyes, smiling deviously. With a weapon now in his hands, he had every intention to use it. He began beating in the man's head in with his own protection. He didn't want to kill him… he needed to. He had just wanted to run out of his box and get outside… but once he began to beat the man to death his body realized how long it had been since it had felt someone else's blood on it and with all of the mental stress he had been through over the past few minutes he needed the blood. It made him feel better… but still incomplete.

Eventually the man's body gave up and he fell backwards, the floor finishing the Joker's work. Blood began to pool around the Joker and he began to giggle girlishly as he watched the blood spread until it reached the toes of the other. The Joker's eyes slowly slid up to the face of the owner of the toes and his smile widened ever so slightly with a blatant look of insanity. The other guard took a step back, the fear like a beacon in his eyes. But who wouldn't be scared?

He barely knew anything about the Joker. He just knew he was supposed to never leave his cell and if he ever said the name "Harley" he was supposed to stick him with a needle that was in the other guy's belt. But this guy people called the Joker… he had just jumped out of his cell and attacked his friend's head like an animal then beat his head to a pulp right in front of him… and he seemed so happy doing it!

And there he was, kneeling over his friend's body as blood poured out of his head, a bloody riot police helmet in his hand, just staring straight at him with a blatant look of insanity. His pupils were dilating slowly as he began to laugh.

Suddenly, the Joker's expression changed from insanity to an evil excitement, then to a friendly smile. "You must be new here… I don't remember reading your file in the Arkham staff list… so I don't know your name. You are…?"

The guard couldn't move or speak. Was the maniac seriously asking for his name?

"You know it's quite rude to keep someone waiting after they ask you... wait. You seem familiar… haven't I seen you before? Did I take you hostage… blow up a school bus with you in college? Wait, I didn't go to college! HA!" The Joker took a second to laugh at himself before looking back at the guard with a sadistic smile in place. "Oh well… it doesn't matter… you're looking a bit pale..." he ran his hands through the blood on the floor, "you need some color back in your cheeks," he stood up slowly. "Here, let me help you…"

The guard shivered at the man's tone and took another step back, his breathing out of control. "No…"

"Aww c'mon kid… I just wanna help…" he purred with an evil grin, but the other guard wasn't having it. He turned to run but the Joker ran after him. The Joker playfully jumped on his back and knocked him to the floor. "Tsktsktsktsk, you really do need some color. And I thought I was pale."

The guard desperately clawed at the floor to get away, screaming for help; but the Joker didn't hear him. He only heard the sound of his own laughter as he put his hands on the man's face to paint it with the other guy's blood, but he kept on struggling when he was just having fun! Trying to kill his fun… he needed to be punished.

"Looks like my art is finished." CRAAACK. The Joker chuckled as he released the man's face. He just kneeled there on the man's back for a while simply staring at the man's lifeless body.

Eventually though, he got up, still giggling to himself, and dragged his hands on the walls to clean them, leaving a wavy line on either wall.

He finally reached the door at the end of the long corridor and paused.

He wondered how long it had been since he had been outside… probably a long time. The light will probably hurt his eyes… the warmth of the sun may burn him… he might even get swallowed up by the Earth. Maybe he'll get lost… lost in the endless space of the outside world. In here… he was safe. He was comfortable. There was nothing but dead bodies and blood in here. Out there… how many different things were there?

He felt the world swim for a moment as the different things that could be outside this door rushed into his mind. He stumbled backwards holding his head and crashed into a wall, then slumped to the floor. He groaned painfully and then growled. Since when was he scared of pain? Since when was being inside fun? The outside world was fun.

He pushed himself off the floor and made his way towards the door. He hesitated for a short moment, then opened it.

Not much light hit him when he opened the door. It was basically the same as the light from inside his cell. A dull, pale light. There was no sun out that's why; just an overcast sky over Arkham property.

He could barely recognize the place. From the cliff formations he was probably in Arkham Easy, where the mansion used to be. He looked around the landscape a bit more, but it was mostly bare. There were no buildings, no rubble, and no fences. The only sign of civilization were the remnants of a gate straight ahead that would lead towards Arkham West. He decided to at least walk there.

After a few steps though, he saw a few pieces of stone that hadn't been cleared away. As he focused on them, he noticed they were too clean cut to be mere pieces of debris left behind… they were headstones

He stopped cold and just stared at them for a moment, thinking. He took two hesitant steps towards them, then broke into a run. As he got closer he realized he was right, they were definitely headstones. They were pretty spread out, but they were there. Only 6 now.

The first one was a Dr. Kennedy. No one he cared for. The second some inmate with an incomprehensible name. The next two he didn't recognize one bit. The next was Abigail Franklin's. Hers had a bit of abuse already done on it. The next was a nurse the Joker had tried to kill once but decided otherwise at the last minute.

He stopped at the last one, and fell to his knees in front of it.

_Harley Quinn_

_(February 1994 – February 2001)_

He placed one hand on the top of the headstone and rubbed it affectionately. Suddenly he smirked, "At least they got your birthday right… I wonder where you'd be at right now… nine years? Heh. At least I got to celebrate your eighth birthday with a bang huh? You would have loved it Harls… it would have been a hot date." He chuckled softly at his weak attempt at a joke then sighed softly. "You would have loved it Harls…"

His hand suddenly clenched against the cold stone as he bowed his head. "You didn't deserve this…" All the sudden the Joker began to bristle. "You don't deserve this… you shouldn't be here. No girl of mine is going to be buried in a place like this…" he growled.

He gave a frustrated growl, then started to dig. He put as much force as he could with every scoop. He forced his hands into dirt and pulled out as much dirt as he could. He wasn't making much progress, but he didn't care. He just wanted to get her out. He wanted to get her out of this god damned place. He'd dig all god damn night if he had to, but they were both getting off of this island. He was gonna find a nice spot for her. Maybe burn down Gotham again and put her in the middle of it so she could really hear them all scream this time. She'd get a front seat to what he could do with her at his side.

"What are you doing?" a deep voice asked from behind him. Damn. He hadn't even heard him.

"I'm taking my girl out for a night on the town. Do you mind?" the Joker growled back, barely bothering to turn his head before he went back to digging. He made damn sure that he hit the Dork Knight with a few scoops of dirt.

"She's not there Joker," Batman stated simply.

The Joker stopped digging for a moment, unable to deny a bit of relief that hit him. "Where… is she then?"

Pause. "I can't tell you that. I can tell you that she's probably happy where she is. I made sure of that."

The Joker nodded his head. "Good… good…" He let that soak in. Batman had taken care of her... "So Bats… how long's it been?"

"You've been in Arkham for about six months. You've been awake for about three weeks."

"Keeping tabs on me eh Batsy? What a stalker... So how many did I kill?"

"…about 8 thousand in total after we locked you up."

The Joker smirked. "I think that's a new record isn't it?"

"…was she worth it?"

"Of course she was!" the Joker spat. "She was perfect…"

"She was insane Joker, but she wouldn't have wanted that sort of massacre."

"_Oh_, what do you know anyways? She would have loved it as long as I was the one doing it. She would have been so happy she would have pissed herself!

She would have even pressed the button and ate popcorn while we listened to them scream! She'd be so excited she would have suffocated me with sex and kisses! She did everything I wanted her to because she wanted to do it! She was a better side kick to me than your fucking kids have ever been to you!"

His eyes went back to headstone and the anger flooded back to him. He crawled to the base of the rock and started digging frantically.

"What are you doing?" he asked again.

"WOULD YOU WANT TO SEE CAT-SLUT OR TALIA BURIED HERE?" he shouted and continued digging. "She was in love, NOT insane! I'm not going to leave my girl to be a fucking example of Arkham... She's not going to be one of their fucking projects!"

He could fucking hear them... 'And this is the Joker's sidekick, Harley Quinn. This is what happens when you trust your patients too much. You BECOME a patient.' They didn't know shit! They didn't know her!

"Why do you care so much, Joker?" Batman asked calmly. "_YOU'RE_ the one who made her insane-"

"I know I'm responsible! I'm the one who created her! She was my creation and my responsibility! And I never... I didn't... I didn't take care of her... I manipulated her to the grave. What else do you want Batman? Do you want me to say that I may have cared for her as a _person_? That she was _dear_ to me? That her death actually hurt? Well I can't tell you that right now! Do you hear that Harley! I can't tell you that! I could never… she couldn't be…" The Joker doubled over and began to angrily punch the ground as something swelled into his chest. He felt like he couldn't breathe and the feeling would tear his chest open.

"After all this time, you're still going to deny her? Isn't that why you reminded yourself of what happened?"

"…Is that what you want Batman? To hear me admit that I loved my little harlequin? That I fell for the sun and she slowly burned away my defenses? That she was precious to me? That I finally began to believe that she actually cared about me? That she loved me enough to look past the grease paint, and the insanity, and the homicide, and the anger and saw… something to love?"

"I want you to make that smile she gave you worth something."

That took the Joker by surprise. How did he know? "I don't even know why she gave me that smile… how am I supposed to make it worth something?"

"She wanted to make sure that you didn't feel so upset over her death, so she left you with a smile, and made sure you knew that you made her life worth something. You made her happy Joker, and it seems like you just turned that into your misery. So in all, you failed her."

The Joker pushed him up into a kneeling position and began to pick at the grass, thinking. There was some truth there. All Harley ever did was make sure he was happy with something. She always tried to brighten his day, and seven out of ten times it worked one way or another. And now, after all of that, all the image of her did was bring back anger and depression.

"Isn't that what mourning is Batman? Feeling miserable that one of the best parts of your life is gone forever?"

"Would Harley want to see you mourn?"

"Well that's all I can give her. A moment in time when she was the focus of my life. And she knew how much I loved obsessing over you and the destruction of Gotham, so obsessing over her should be enough… it should be enough."

"So Harley's the focus and the best thing in your life. That doesn't sound like you."

The Joker laughed humorlessly and picked up a rock. "It's not… it's something else. You know, the urge to kill has never bothered me less than right now. It feels strange. I don't know how long it'll last, but it feels nice. Being able to see Harley in a new light. She really was beautiful wasn't she? A lovely specimen of humanity. Still faulty of course, but she truly was beautiful. Loyal. Energetic. Dependent. Generous.

"She never had a reason to stay, yet she did. And when she left, I'm sure she was still fighting. I wonder what she'd be doing right now… two years after it all… what time is it batsy?"

"About 11 AM."

"Hm… she'd probably be pulling out of my arms just about now to go prepare… whatever she was going to make. She was a lousy cook, but she was slowly improving. The last dish she made was… chocolate chip pancakes if I remember correctly. She managed not to burn or undercook maybe three of them and _loaded them_ with chocolate chips. They still tasted off, but it was close. I didn't have to drown it out with strawberry milk or throw the plate at her head. Maybe I'd be able to actually enjoy her food by now. Her baking would still probably suck though." The Joker couldn't help but laugh, but the happiness didn't last long. "Do you ever think I'm going to be able to let her go?"

"It's not likely."

The Joker nodded slowly. "So… I may be stuck like this forever then huh?"

"It's likely."

The Joker sighed softly. "It's strange… feeling things again. I can't identify half of them."

"It'll take some time. But you'll be able to sort it out."

"And what if I never do? What happens then?"

"You keep moving. Quinn may have helped you learn something along the way."

"She did… she did." The Joker sighed and pushed himself off the floor and walked behind Harley's headstone. "The journey begins with the first step huh?" The Joker placed one foot on the back of the slab of granite and pushed as hard as he could until it fell forward with a loud _thump_.

"That's true, but I can't let you leave Arkham," Batman said coldly.

The Joker turned his back to Batman. "Oh don't bother Batsy. I'll just let myself out if you don't mind," he said with a small wave.

Walking was a chore, but he wanted to get away from there. It was exhausting, being near Harley's headstone. Even if he couldn't see her name anymore, it meant something now. Something did lie under that headstone, and at the moment he wanted to get as far away from it as possible. He knew it'd eventually catch up to him, but for right now, he enjoyed being free of it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** To clear anything up, the Joker has some temoporary sanity due to Batman's method of therapy. He was already going sane when he walked outside the holding cell the represented his insanity (mindlessly killing) and he was scared to go outside because he knew what facing the world would mean. Hopefully that cleared up some confusion.

sorry this is kind of rushed but I _really_ wanted to finish this before i started craming for AP tests. Maybe I'll edit it later, but right now no. The next chapter we'll see the Joker go back into his insanity and some other interesting occurances, but I can't tell you what it is. Fortunately for you all, it's already written and I just need to type it up. :3


	16. Deserving an Expanation

**A/N: (actually kinda important this time!)** So this chapter is about a month or two after the Joker's "escape" from Arkham. So, because he's just kinda... been hanging around instead of doing anything productive (that isn't murder... although he hasn't done any of that either) so he's been gradually falling back into madness, since his mind just can't take the masses of emotiones so it kind of tries to go back to a familiar pattern (if you don't get it, think of it like braces. Take them off and the teeth will slowly go back to where they were). This is why you once again seem him quickly morph from a partially sane Joker back to a maniac killer which was kind of interesting to write but I wanted to get to the end already.

We also see another new character. Their whole reason for being in this story in the first place is explained in this chapter. The explanation of _HOW_ they got into this story is going to be in the epilogue (which is going to be after the next chapter). As well as a lot of other stuff. If something's unclear to you or makes no sense just point it out in the reviews and I'll fix it. (**that's it for the really important stuff**)

OK, I know I told a few of you guys that it was busy with school and such, but I'm a major procrastinator and doing this story gave me the perfect excuse. I know, I'm terrible. T.T Plus I was stressed today since I took a very important exam so it was a good way to take off some of the edge. Especially since I love this chapter... and the next one but that still has to be written. I hope you all love it.

And on that note I'd love to thank everyone who wished me luck on my exams and also the people who have been around for the beginning.

Song used: "Deserving an Explanation" by Chiodos Bros. aka Chiodos  
>This seam is splitting, torn apart. lacerations from the thoughts of you. choking me, your words shoved down my throat. and i'm still bleeding from our first kiss. the taste so painful i'm forced to clench my fists.<br>every time you turn around, you'll feel my presence. and when you glance up at the stars. everyone will be crashing down on you, whoa, you'll see me, the sky, calling out your name.  
>and yet for some reason, I still absent mindedly come back for more. maybe someday I'll realize that this storm will someday pass me by.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Deserving an Explanation<strong>

Loneliness… it was normal wasn't it? Everyone one felt lonely from time to time. The Joker had felt lonely for most of his life after all. Sitting in this corner wasn't very different was it? He'd never been a team player anyways… and there was barely anything in Gotham he could ruin… he could ruin their hopes and rip down their progress but… maybe later.

The Joker actually felt pretty run down. He wasn't content with his corner… but there was no other place he'd rather be. He _could_ clean himself off… wash off the smell, wipe off the remaining clown make-up and replace it with cover up in an attempt to be… normal. But what **was** _normal_?

Wasn't it just this? Finding some spot in the world you could handle and remaining there, feeling it was just as good as anything else? How dull… how boring. Over a year ago he had been the complete opposite of normalcy. He had laughed and beat down the walls with his energy and fire! _Nothing_ had been able to hold him down. He would strut around town like he owned the place, his two girls at his side and an old friend at his heels.

Harley would be on his left, entranced by his every move, clinging to him like he was… well… him (it's not like she cared for anything else). At his right would be a beautiful, shiny semi, shooting everything and anything he wanted. And his friend changed from time to time. At times it was Batman, Two-Face, Batgirl, Nightwing, the Boy Blunder, Gordon, Isley… the list went on and on. But more or less, despite the change in shape the person stayed the same: Death. He was _always_ fun.

The Joker cringed. A rock suddenly hit the bottom of his stomach as he remembered such things. The fun of Harley, the thrill of death, and the excitement of the kill. Three things that made his life worthwhile… and all of them… they were all just… gone.

J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x

I whimpered softly and clutched the files to my chest… as if they could protect me down here. It wasn't the best part of Gotham… not that much of it was better. But while the better half of Gotham was making due and trying to help the reconstruction, this part of the city –which hadn't even been _touched_ by the blaze –was filled with the scum who simply leeched off the center. They were desperate, and I was weak.

How lovely of a day this turned out to be…

It was all Earl's fault! _**Maybe**_ if he hadn't gone out drinking the reports in my arms would have been at their destination **yesterday! Before** the road I needed to take was put under construction and **before** my alternate route was crammed by spectators listening to Bruce Wayne's inspirational speech… but here I am. Walking through the worst part of Gotham… alone… with heals that keep on ringing the dinner bell through the streets.

It could be worse though… I could be _part_ of the slum rather than an outsider. A year ago I had just woken up from a five year coma with no family, no life, and no job. Bruce Wayne, impressed by my perseverance, had given me a secretary job with one of his board members.

It was an honest, well paying job and Mr. Wayne seemed to like me enough. He checked on me every now and again to make sure Earl was treating me well (I'll be sure to complain about this next time he spoke to me).

I guess I'm… content enough. Sure I'm a single secretary in my early thirties, but I didn't take much interest in anything else. Men especially. Most of them are so _dull_ and I can always find _something_ wrong with them. One was close –rich, exciting, great smile, nice laugh –but he was so… simple minded. He wanted to live his life, settle down, have kids, raise them well, let them go, get old, and simply die hoping he made an impression. The memory of it made me frown. It was normal… but that was the problem.

It was _planned_ and it was _normal_. I liked his spirit _a lot_ but it died when I learned it was just _planned_.

I guess it's just my age, but over the year I've become more and more critical of the men who were interested in me, and there were plenty of those.

My bright, baby blue eyes have the ability to capture the attention of a whole room –a skill that I loved. I prefer them to the hazel contacts Mr. Wayne had suggested to me. He wasn't very pleased when I stopped using them. The girls at work seemed happy that I had finally done something to displease Gotham's favorite bachelor, but I didn't care. I didn't care for any of them at all. I was in the head-honcho's favor, and that put me five steps ahead of all of them.

But when I noticed a group of men forming ahead of me, I realized how useless that information was.

I slowed my step a bit as my heart began to race in panic. I kept my face calm despite the panic that only seemed to be getting worse in my mind as the group turned from 3 to 4 to 5. A smile played on some of their lips as they stole glances at me, forcing a whimper from my throat. Hoping to avoid them, I crossed the street and sighed softly as I watched them walk past me.

I relaxed my grip on the files –the papers were digging painfully into my fingers. I looked at my hands and couldn't help but giggle at the deep red lines, deeply contrasting my white hands. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush but I found the whole situation funny. Being in mortal danger and simply getting away with it… it could make anyone laugh. But the comedy of it ended when I heard quick footsteps slapping the ground behind me. I didn't bother turning around though

I could already see their cruel, victorious smiles. The congratulatory side glances of a hunt well done…

But I wasn't willing to give in though. Not _this _easily. I quickly turned onto a secondary street and rushed through it, hoping to find a route to get away.

J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x

The Joker groaned and allowed his body to tilt onto the floor, empty.

It was a triangle before… Harley, death, and murder. It was all perfect and he had it all. The girl, the gun and the thrill. And now it was all just… gone… wasn't it?

Not necessarily. He'd been here before.

There had been a time before Harley when he was exactly like this. Alone. No purpose. No worth… and he had found his purpose then all by himself. And suddenly he was the best in the whole fucking world.

He can't remember that first kill… but he'll never forget that rush –when the Earth suddenly pushed him up above everyone and everything –but then again he never came down from that high in the first place. Perhaps if he tried the drug again… it'd all go away again. All the pain, all the emotions, and all of these annoying little _feelings _that plagued him…

And right on cue, he heard the door to the building open from his dark corner. With it, a girlish panting.

He sat himself upright in a sudden burst of excitement and watched. She was a small thing, scared out of her mind. _Perfect._

"Oh my… a damsel in distress?" he purred. He stood up slowly, making sure not to make a sound as she looked around frantically, her heels giving away every slow, panicked step. Yes… she was _perfect_.

J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x~J~x

She swallowed hard and slowly walked backwards towards a wall, hoping to melt away into the shadows. She prayed to God she was going crazy… she prayed to God no one was really there, but an evil chuckle echoed through the building; it froze her heart and sent a shiver down her back.

"Wh-who's there?" she called out, inching along the wall to find a way out.

"Who am I? Who am _I_?"… First…who, are _you_?" he purred, obviously teasing her. Maybe it was just some nut –although that might not be the best outcome either. There was something behind his friendly façade though. She could feel the hidden threat blow over her skin, hinting at danger, warning her against the threat; but curiosity had the best of her. She decided to stall it. Get as close as she could before running away.

"D-Darleen," she called back. "Now who are you?"

"Hm…" he breathed. A little spark lit up in her chest at his tone, making her shiver. "They call me by many names. The Clown Prince of Crime. The Homicidal Clown. Killer Clown. The _Agent of **Chaos**!_" he announced proudly. "But I'm more humbly known as…"

As he paused, Darleen's hand hit a window curtain, and she frantically pulled it down so some light would enter the room and give her some idea of where to go. She knew those names… she'd heard them as whispers as she walked down the street. His names and his voice filled her head with dread and she knew she needed to get out** now**!

"The Joker," he finished dramatically just as light poured into the room.

About then feet away from her was a tall, thin man with a painted white face and painted red lips, cracked and worn over time. His hair was a dull green and lanky from dirt and oil. But what struck her the most was his smile. It was wild… it was murderous… but most of all it was familiar.

Suddenly, a thousand wild smiles filled her mind, each one microscopically, but obviously different to her. Each one with its own meaning.

When the Joker chuckled darkly at her panic, the chuckle echoed through her head until it transformed into dozens and dozens of different types of laughter, drowning her mind in an ocean of _him_. And it was music to her ears.

As he stalked towards her, Darleen felt something bubble up in her chest. It felt gigantic in my throat and threatened to suffocate me right here. My mind raced to figure out what it was. It was a need. A requirement to survive. A necessity to _live_.

When he was two graceful steps away, she realized what it was. It was a word.

"Mistah J!" Harley screamed out and leapt into her life's arms once again.

J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H

The Joker staggered a bit, but his body still remembered how to deal with the sudden impact. "Harley?"

"Mistah J! Mistah J! Mistah J! Mistah J! Mistah Jay!" she sobbed out into his shirt, trying to nose her way into his chest. She clung onto him for dear life, but the Joker hadn't even reacted yet. His mind was still in shock.

Numbly, he walked her over to the window, touched her chin and tilted her head upwards so she could look him in the eye.

Sure enough, through her tears, the little bit of sunlight reflected back Harley's obnoxious crystal blue eyes. But not her annoying blonde hair. "You're a brunette," he remarked coldly, unsure of what his tone should be.

Harley suddenly looked alarmed. "You don't like it?" she whined softly, her Boston accent perfectly replaced in her voice. The Joker couldn't deny the aching it created in his chest. He considered, for a moment, ripping her apart and using her body to fill in the hole that was forming in his chest, but he found himself enjoying her voice, her scent, her warmth, and her racing heart.

"Yes, I hate it." His face was still stone.

Harley's face fell a bit, but when the Joker frowned a bit more, he finally saw that endearing, obnoxious smile of pure happiness. ."Then I'll fix it right away boss!"

The Joker nodded curtly and felt this undeniable urge. He narrowed his eyes at her a bit, but didn't move away. He recognized the feeling, but it was so old he barely knew what to do with it.

He held her cheeks in his hands and examined her if anything. After moving her head around and wiping the tears from her cheeks, obviously sending waves of joy through Harley –who seemed to be struggling to stay still for him.

Finally, he brushed her brown bangs out of her face, and kissed her forehead.

Her elation must have been too much because she suddenly fell limp in his arms after a high pitched _eep_. He panicked internally and placed a hand over her mouth while keeping her against him. He smiled warmly –yes, warmly; try to imagine it –at her reaction and sat down, cradling her against him.

So here she was. His dear little harlequin. Back from the grave. How sweet. It felt like he was that kid from Lassie who just got his dog back (except _Lassie_ didn't leave a golden retriever and come back a black Labrador).

He started to pet her then. He took her hair out of her neat little bun and brushed it out until it was a wild mess, enjoying the random strands of hair and how each strand wiggled as he brushed it out. Her always had a bit of bounce to it, and he loved to play with it while she slept.

His eyes slid over her form and frowned. She was dressed in _actual_ clothes, so some of her lovely curves were hidden from him. Nevertheless he slid his hand over her slide slowly, nothing any changes that occurred over the past year or whatever.

She needed some tweaking, but overall she had remained the same. How Harley. It was like she had subconsciously preserved herself for him. She even came to find him when he wanted her. Or had he sensed her presence and reverted to normal for her? Who knew?

All that mattered was he had his favorite toy back in his arms once again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** HOLY SHIT PLOT TWIST! And don't bug me about suddenly bringing back a dead character. DC does the same thing all the time haha

So yes, Harley is back and very much alive and well (although she's a brunette which I wasn't happy about either but It works since if any of you remember in Batman TAS she said she wasn't a real blond). So the spoiler I mentioned before? It was Bruce stopping and making sure that one brunette (aka: Harley) didn't go find the Joker. So the human nature he mentioned wasn't the human curiosity for danger, but the human desire to be close to the one you love. And obviously Harley kept her feelings for the Joker even after... wait. Can't tell you that yet. ;)

And I know Harley's tense changed from first person to third person but I had MEANT to write it in first person, but I wrote it in third person and typed up most of it without noticing. And then when I was changing everything to first person, I realized that it would take away from the whole mood. I mean, what's more exciting. "I screamed" when the reader isn't even completely sure who "I" is or "Harley screamed" which even made me smile. But at the same time I liked the depth first person gave when I was explaining the character so I kept it.

Also another little touch I put into the story. She fell into him _again_. Harleen Quinzel had also been curious and believed she could just get close to the Joker and run away when he got too close, but then she turned into Harley Quinn. "Darleen" tried to do the same thing... and then she "drowned in a sea of _him_". I guess the Joker was right. He has a very attractive personality. Like the sun. You get too close and it'll suck you in and burn you alive.

So yes the next chapter is going to revolve around the Joker and Harley. You're going to see hints of the other side of both of them... which is also going to be fun to write. You get to see another sweet Joker, and a homicidal Harley.


	17. Lexington

**A/N:** A day earlier than expected, but here it is. The final chapter in the story with our dear Joker and our beloved Harley. This is right after they found each other once again. You guys didn't think I'd really keep them apart forever did you? Well here they are in all their shining glorey. I know I said I would split the chapter in two, but I fixed a few things and managed to keep it all in one longish chapter.

So in this chapter you're going to be seeing a few different sides to both Harley and the Joker, so that should be interesting.

Song used: "Lexington" by Chiodos  
>The fields are near<br>And I won't trust the air with secrets  
>I can't stop holding this treasure in my arms<br>For all the water in the ocean  
>Could never turn this swan's legs from black to white<br>Let them say what they please

You won't be leaving my arms ever I promise you that  
>Even if you want me to let go honey<br>Even if you want me to let go  
>You won't be leaving my arms ever I promise you that<br>Even if you want me to let go honey  
>Even if you say the things<br>That make me want to lose you

We went on drinking celebrating something  
>I looked at you and said that I'm forever yours<br>You looked at me and said oh the idea of being in love  
>The idea, the idea of being forever yours<p>

* * *

><p><strong><span>Lexington<span>**

"Darleen? Ha! I'll never get enough of _that_!" the Joker teased loudly.

Harley grimaced playfully. "Darleen Denis… who in their right mind would name their kid _Darleen Denis_?"

Harley's displeasure made the Joker laugh all the harder.

They were just lying Harley's bed at her apartment –which need some serious changes, but that would come later… if ever. First things first, she had died her hair blond again. Next, he showered –a man needs to look good for his girl –and when he finished, he found some oil paint and hair dye. His face and hair were lightly tinted white and green, but he preferred the vivid colors he had when he first crawled out of that chemical vat.

He had looked at himself in the mirror, enjoying his clean appearance for the first time in what felt like a decade. He had grinned and traced a childish smiley face on the mirror, using the white oil paint for the head, green for some spiky hair, and red for the eyes and mouth.

He grinned brightly and yet darkly then walked to the door. "The Joker's back baby!" he shouted dramatically when he opened the door. Harley had wiggled with excitement and clapped her hands. The Joker had rewarded her with a deviously charming smile then jumped into bed with her, tickling and wrestling her.

But now they just lay in bed, Harley's arm across his chest, one leg resting on top of his crossed legs, and his arm around her shoulders. He felt like he should have a cigar or something in his mouth, but he didn't want to move. It bothered him, but one feeling was stronger than the other.

"So, what have you been doing with yourself kid?" he asked casually.

Harley shrugged nonchalantly which bugged the Joker and excited him at the same time. He wanted to know _everything _that had happened to her and eventually he would know it all –whether she wanted to tell him or not –but he was happy to know that she didn't think anything else was as interesting as he was. "Nothing interesting Mistah J. Wayney boy gave me a job at his place, and I-"

"What did you work as pray tell?" he asked, suddenly interested.

"A secretary-"

"_His_ secretary?" he questioned hopefully.

Harley pouted softly. "No, sorry Puddin'. For one of his board members. He's the guy that sent me off with those files."

The Joker pouted with her sympathetically and patted her head, but then smiled. "But remember Doll Face, he's also the one who led you to me." He ended the sentence with a devious grin.

Harley immediately perked up and hugged him tightly, and the Joker allowed it. "That's true…" she dreamed while nuzzling into his chest. The Joker allowed it, but he couldn't deny that he was upset his precious toy had been allowed in such a place.

"I know…" he said touching her chin with a devious smile spreading across his face, "we can say _thank you_ one of these days. It's the least we can do for giving you back to me."

"Can we throw me a good-bye party while we're at it Mistah J?" she asked excitedly with stars in her eyes.

Oh how he had missed her. "C'mon Harls, now how could I say no to a party?"

Harley squealed and hugged his neck, kicking her feet in the air. The Joker admired her face for a moment, but suddenly felt annoyed and pulled on one of her pigtails. Harley immediately backed off but still kept her smile.

"I'm gonna introduce you to everyone Mistah J! Marie! Diane! Michelle! Jackie…" after that the Joker just nodded, imagining how he was going to kill all the people Harley listed. Until he heard, "Marcus-"

"Marcus? A boyfriend?" he asked, a threat looming under his voice.

Harley hesitated then simply said, "An ex…"

He was already dead. Hung by his fingers and butchered mercilessly. "Any… others, I should know about?"

Harley pulled away a bit and squirmed around, like a worm in the sunlight. "All ex's. Eric, Danny, Drake, and Chris."

Dead, dead, dead, and deader. He was going to die them together, spray them with acid, and throw them off a cliff. "All ex's Harley? I guess after me you had some high expectations."

Harley perked up. "You _are_ the best Mistah J! They were all so… bleh compared to you." She stuck out her tongue in disgust.

The Joker couldn't help but laugh, but then a thought hit him. "Nothing from Wayne?"

Harley simply shrugged. "Nah. He just hired me after I… woke up before I guess… but no. Guess I wasn't cute enough for 'im. But I belong to someone else right Mistah J?"

The Joker looked away from her and nodded curtly. He knew she was watching him adoringly, but he didn't look at her. Rather, he kept his eyes on her ceiling, thinking.

His harlequin was alive… alive and back under his spell once again. It confused him. He knew he had suffered without her. Taking into account the mayhem he caused, his emotions had taken hold, but now he could barely remember the misery he felt then. Any little movement she made sent sparks up and down his back. He was tempted to tell her to stay still to make the feeling stop, but he found he liked the feeling. It was new and he hadn't felt anything like it before.

He suddenly decided that he wanted more of it, so he turned on his side and held Harley against his chest.

H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~

I couldn't help it. I knew he wanted me to stay as still as possible, but I wanted to be closer. I wanted to feel more of him. I wanted to be in a cocoon with him and never come out.

But for my Puddin, I pushed that aside and lay as still as I could with him. Just for him. It was nice too. It wasn't like we spent this kind of quiet time together before. Usually when we lay in bed like this, he has a knife in his hand and he would absently trace it up and down my skin, occasionally cutting me.

I didn't mind though. Not one bit. I adore his attention. I adore the way he touched me. Just the thought of his touch made me bubbly inside. It sent a warm shiver through my chest, but I relished the anxiety. It made the touch three times as good as it would be without it.

I felt so happy like this. Just like this or anything else that involved him touching me. It was _amazing_.

But honestly, I never would have thought that what he did next would ever happen. I'd dreamt of it a few times but… I didn't really think it'd happen.

Mistah J turned over and hugged me against him… (honestly I thought he was just going to lie on top of me and squish me).

It was a shock to say the least. I could breath and I-I knew I was shivering, my eyes about to pop out of my head in surprise. My heart went wild and I was sure it was going to jump out of my chest and do a little dance for him. Eventually I finally started to breathe, but only in shivering whiffs. My heart must have been taking up too much room.

But I didn't matter. I was surrounded by him. Encapsulated by him. Screw being in a cocoon _with_ him. **I WAS IN A COCOON **_**OF**_** HIM!** I still couldn't move from the shock, but in my mind I was snuggling into him, squeezing out every drop of him, swimming in his perfection, melting into him, drowning in his embrace.

The shock slowly wore off though and my heart felt more like a race horse than Road Runner. I nuzzled into him a little bit but he didn't really respond. I sighed softly, content, and I felt him react a little bit which I found odd. I mde a fist around his shirt, gently pulling it into my face and inhaling his scent. It was different –more like fresh dirt, rubber, and ripe fruit than smoke, his cologne, and something else I was never able to place –but all that mattered was it was his scent. His delicious scent that always called to me like a bee to a flower, forcing me to steal his pillow case and shirts on multiple occasions. I came back to reality after a while and noticed he was curled around me a bit.

Curious. "Hey Mistah J?" I asked. He just grunted. I waited a moment, thinking it over. "Did yuh miss me?"

"Of course not!" he spat, like it was the most impossible thing in the world. But instead of pushing me away for my insolence, he held me closer.

I waited a moment. "Really?"

He was quiet for a minute, but I didn't falter. He obviously wasn't in the mood for bloody murder, and he was strangely affectionate, so there was a chance that he would answer… and I couldn't deny I wanted him to answer. "Maybe a little…" My heart soared with happiness.

HE HAD MISSED ME! HE CARED! Even the little bit, even the tiny thought of me that passed through his mind in our time apart. But I'd never want it to happen again. I never want him to _ever_ have to miss me! I still wanted to be by his side every second I could! I never want to leave him! I'll be his to play with, his puppet, his teddy bear, his pillow to punch or cut! Anything, everything! But the fact that he missed me made my heart soar.

"…But tell anyone and I'll throw you in a fish barrel and bury you alive!"

I smiled and snuggled into him. "Nevah Mistah J…"

I was happy like this… Mistah J and me. No care in the world. I wanted to melt. I wanted to be entombed. I wanted to be like this until the day I died.

I buried my face into his shirt, feeling like I would suffocate without his scent in my lungs.

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The Joker didn't mind. It seemed like Harley was more than happy simply nosing into his chest. He could feel her soft breathing through his shirt and his skin under it was dying for more. He pulled her head a bit closer and laid his head over hers.

That's when he realized, this wasn't like him at all. Sure, he's cuddled with her a few times, but he's never been _this _affectionate. While it was a first for him, he was enjoying it. Perhaps he really _had_ missed her. He enjoyed the human contact despite himself. He has just enjoyed stroking her pale white skin with a hand or a razor or a knife whenever he had wanted to. She had done everything he wanted and had kept him content. She had annoyed him _a lot_… but she tries. She accepts him. She flourished under him.

While she had her limits –and he knew where they were –she very rarely fought back.

But that wasn't it though. She also understood insanity to an extent. He loved to see her go out in a rage. He considered it very hot, even when it was against him. She had a homicidal side of her despite her carelessly playful nature. He wondered if she still had it, or if it had been lost along with her memories.

"Hey Harley."

She picked up her head and looked at him eagerly. "Hm?"

"Go get the car."

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By _the_ car he meant _a_ car. I know he was starting to test me, to make sure I was _his _Harley and _Darleen_ was just as dead as _Harleen. _I wasn't worried though. I'd gladly kill them all off for him.

As upset as I was that we had stopped cuddling, it would be fun to be back in action. Well, partially anyway. We won't be doing anything big until my debut party, but that doesn't mean we can't have a _little_ fun.

But back to the matter at hand, I needed to find a good car. He didn't like the newer cars, so it had to be a black Lincoln 1988… definitely a Lincoln 1988. If only someone on this street had one- _bingo!_ Sweet Mrs. McHenry… she me lent a cup of sugar a few days ago… when I was Darleen. Mistah J's Harley Quinn didn't care who she pushed past to make her Puddin' happy.

I hesitated for a moment, making sure I remembered how to get away with this before I did something stupid and got us caught before we even started… "Yup. It's all still up in the ole' noggin," I said to myself as I got to work.

I drove up to my apartment building proudly and honked for him. He poked his head out, smiled deliciously, and then waved at me girlishly, playing like he was my date. It made me laugh inside, but outside I did my best to play my part like I always do. I love playing his partner… it was like… travelling. Travelling at the speed of light. Bouncing from place to place with no time to rest. Everything about him was always fresh and new and it always kept everything interesting… like a puppy. A puppy who is my master. Funny isn't it?

Eventually Mistah J came down and I opened the window for him.

He crossed his arms over the opening and poked his head in. "So Darlin'," he teased, "where yuh takin' me?"

"Anywhere you want cutie." I winked and opened the door for him. He slid in gracefully and I shivered as I felt the soft vibrations of his movements and the slight slump of the car under his weight –it was less than I remembered though… he must be getting thinner. He turned and closed the car door for himself and I measure his mood by how much force he used out of habit.

He caught me looking at him and grinned, and I couldn't help but stiffen up. He gently took my chin and pulled my face closer to his, sending lightning through my whole system while his fingers and eyes forced me into submission. How had I even gotten out of bed without seeing his glorious green eyes every day?

"To the old docks Sweetie," he cooed. He then let me go and sat back in the seat –already adjusted to how he likes it –arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed on the dashboard. "Oh, and step on it."

"You got it Pud!" I replied with a salute, then pulled out in a rush.

"WAIT!" he shouted suddenly, shooting straight up with an expression of urgency.

I slammed the brakes and looked at him in alarm. "What?"

"Let's go to the old tailor first," he said simply. He then settled down again and watch a cat walk down the sidewalk.

I looked at him, a bit shocked. I had forgotten his extreme mood swings. He could go from depressed to enraged at the drop of a hat. Casual to hyperactive with a twitch of your fingers. Homicidal to childish with the right words… or vice-versa with the wrong words. You never knew what was really going on in the black hole of his mind. I'm not even sure he's always aware of what goes on around him… I had an idea of things that could set him off, but it was always a gamble. And it was dangerous to use the same method more than once. **He** was dangerous period.

I can't count the hundreds- no, thousands of times that he's nearly killed me for no obvious reason. Or the many times he's intentionally put me in danger to punish me or punished me himself for his own entertainment. He enjoyed hurting me himself more though. He enjoyed knowing he could make me scream. He could make me scream and yell and cry and curse and die, but I could never make myself run away or stop him.

I still had that choice right now though… I could run out of the car and scream. Once I yelled _Joker_ they'd all swarm him… especially after everything he's done… after every life he's taken over the years… it could all end there. I would be me, and no longer his. I would never scream again… I'd be safe again. Secure. I could be Darleen again… forever Darleen. Or maybe even _Harleen_… I could go back to trying to help people instead of hurting them for this maniac clown. I could-

He turned to me again with a slightly impatient and concerned frown. I jumped a little when he turned, afraid that he had somehow seen my doubts written all over my face, or, even worse, read my thoughts. Maybe he had, and he'd reach over and choke the life out of me right now… right after I had finally found my life in his deep green eyes.

No… why would I ever give this up? He had me safe and sound in the palm of his hand. I had a stable place to be right by his side. I was his one and only. He was my whole world. I would simply die without him. It just wasn't possible… I loved being Harley Quinn. I loved the freedom of it. I loved being free from society. I loved laughing with him while we burned the world to the ground. I loved slipping by the rules of the world and shooting raspberries at them all. I wouldn't have that without him. I would be _nothing_ without him… Harleen and Darleen were dead. All I could be… no. All I _needed_ to be was Harley Quinn. His Harley Quinn. Forever and for always.

I smiled sheepishly at him and started to drive.

J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J~H~J

The Joker smiled as he stepped out of the car in his own new black shoes, his own purple pants, his own green vest, his own purple coat, his own acidic flower, his own purple bowtie, and his own purple fedora. It felt good, being surrounded by everything _his_ in the cold night air. He looked at Harley for a moment, still enjoying the sight of her a little too much. She was back into her old costume –although she didn't have her cowl… fucking tailor couldn't find one –truly looking like his dear Harley Quinn. It was very endearing, her innocence. He loved looking at her when her face was full of wonder.

"You sure this is the place Mistah J?" she asked stupidly.

And there went the joy in seeing her. He rolled his eyes and strolled towards the worn down warehouse building. "Of course I'm sure! Now hurry up Harley."

He heard Harley's hurried steps as she tried to catch up with his rushed footsteps. He suddenly felt something pull him to a stop and looked to his side. For one alarming second, he could see himself, collapsed on the floor looking defeated yet victorious. He looked reinvigorated, but disintegrating. It was a sorry sight, and the Joker quickly pushed the image behind him and looked up at the old building.

He felt a slow smile form across his face. He knew what he had done inside this building… the 7 lives he had mercilessly and joyously taken inside… the screams that he hoped still echoed around inside the blood covered walls. He forcefully pushed open the door to his old torture chamber, and inside it smelled like… death. He felt his heart soar with pride. No one had found his little… _playhouse_.

He heard Harley gag and groan in displeasure behind him, but he hadn't expected anything different. She understood him, but she would never _be_ him. She'd always have her limits. She'd always have one foot in reality. But he hoped to push her to her old breaking point once again.

He opened the door a bit wider, "Ladies first."

She grimaced and walked past him, rubbing her arms. "Mistah J, this place gives me the creeps," she whined.

He fought the will to slap her, and instead smiled. "Aw, don't be scared poo. _Daddy's_ right, here," he breathed, gripping her shoulders a bit roughly. He slid to her side and took her hand, leading her into the building. He felt like a demon leading a child to Hell… Hell. That's where he was taking her. Where people burned and screamed for their sins. He wanted to show her what he had done. He wanted to see if she'd smile or scream. Her fear was obvious on her face, but he _wanted_ her to be scared. He _preferred_ her scared.

She wasn't some apathetic sociopath that he ran around with because they both thought it was _fun_… no. She was with him because she was _his_. She didn't always like it, and yet she always stayed. That's exactly what had pushed him to this point, and he wanted to make sure that loyalty was still there.

"Mistah J! It smells!" she whined behind him.

"It's death my dear… the sweet stench of _death_… I would have thought you'd have known it by now." She stopped and took an actual whiff of the scent, willingly allowing its sickening essence inside her body. All because he had suggested it to her. "Remember?"

She nodded weekly, obviously a bit scared. He wondered exactly _what_ she remembered. He wondered which body came to mind when she thought of the smell of death. "I do… what _is_ this place…?"

He quickly took a step back and pushed his face into hers. She pulled back a bit to give him his own space, but he dipped a bit lower to force her eyes on him. "It's my _play_house…" he whispered, gently tracing her hairline. "I made it while you were gone… I was oh so… so lonely. And _bored_." He pushed his hand into her pigtail and pulled her hair. She cried out softly but didn't fight him. He released her and slowly sauntered away, hands in the air. "_So _I had to find _some _way to entertain myself. And what better way to entertain myself other than…" he turned to face her, slowly forming a fist in one hand "revenge."

Harley was just standing there, hands locked together against her chest, hanging on every word. "Revenge Pu-puddin?"

His expression softened. "For taking you away my dear… for taking you away from me."

The blood flew to her face. "For… me, Puddin?"

He began walking away from her, surveying the walls. "You're mine dear… did you really think there would be no consequences for them? It didn't even stay with _them_ you know… _everyone_ had to pay for my loss…"

"…was I the reason you burned down half the city?" she asked, dumbstruck.

"Mhmm. You. They took you? Fine! But they were going to pay a _high_ price. They paid with _their_ lives, or the lives of others. Harley, come here." The Joker beckoned her to him, finally finding what he was looking for. Harley scampered over to where the Joker stood. "Look…" He pointed towards a couple of hanging figures, almost indistinguishable from the darkness.

He looked to Harley and saw the look of horror… or was it wonder? "What did you do Joker?" she breathed, one hand floating towards her mouth.

The Joker grinned as the images flitted through his mind. "I stabbed their shoulders with hooks, right below the bone so they could hang. And then I raised them up!" He raised one hand, make a visual. "I made them hang from their shoulders, and tied their hands after, so a few muscles would rip on the hooks. Then," he licked his lips, "I lit a match, and lit their pants on fire, with the same match. I just watched them try to kick the flames out, but by the looks of them," he looked them over and smiled, "they failed. **But** I didn't burn their faces. See? The flies and other little creatures had their way with the faces… **but**," he walked excitedly towards another corpse, still exactly where he had left them, "I kept the faces together for this guy to see."

Harley tip-toed closer to the corpse, her face frozen in a mask of fear. "Who… who is that…?" she breathed, almost growled. The Joker could see it, her growing defiance. He was losing his Harley Quinn, and fast… no. He wasn't losing her. If she didn't understand, she was already gone.

The Joker stepped in front of her, right in front of her so she had to look up to see his face, and he had to look down into hers. He leaned in close, like he would kiss her, but then slanted his decent to her ear and whispered, "He's the _worm_ that pulled the trigger."

She inhaled, and he felt her fury radiating off of her. "He's the guy who took me away from you." The Joker nodded. "What… what did you do to him?" she said through her teeth.

Maybe not so gone. "He may have stolen you, but I _**broke him**_," the Joker growled. Harley looked at him, puzzled. The Joker stepped aside and waved a hand towards the body, motioning for Harley to see for herself.

She grimaced, but only half-heartedly. Curiosity had the best of her, he could see it in her eyes. No... not so gone indeed.

She kneeled down next to the rotten corpse and tentatively picked up his arm by the wrist with two gloved fingers. Half of the arm came off and Harley screamed and scrambled away, making the Joker smile. Her eyes shot straight to the Joker. "You literally broke him… you broke every bone in his body."

The Joker nodded with a small smirk and eyed her carefully, watching for her reaction.

And then he saw it. The rusty gears in her head turning, making her eyes widen with understanding, forcing a soft smile on her lips. "For me." The Joker nodded again. "Because he broke your plaything… because he took me away from you."

The Joker nodded curtly and looked back at the body with the cruel smile, then back to Harley with the same smile. "All for you pumpkin pie…" he snarled, making Harley grin. She crawled back to the body on her hands and knees excitedly, and the Joker could feel her admiring every odd angle where the Joker had struck the creature. It brought a smile to the Joker's face and made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It became a bit too much for him again, so he walked away and admired the two burned, rotten bodies hanging behind them.

"Hey Mistah J!" Harley called back.

"Hm?" the Joker grunted, his mind elsewhere.

"You said you broke every bone in his body right?"

The Joker turned around, puzzled. "Yes… why?" He came up behind her and bent down to look over Harley's shoulder, trying to find the bone he missed.

She turned her head and looked up at him like a curious child. "Isn't the skull a bone?"

The Joker jump a bit inside and looked at the man's skull. Sure enough, it was still in one piece. He crossed one arm over his chest and placed his other hand on his chin in a thoughtful motion. "You're right Poo… I wonder how I missed that one."

"Well, smashing in the skull would kill 'im too quick wouldn' it?" Harley pointed out.

The Joker shrugged. "True…"

Harley stood up, and made a show of bending over to an angle with her hands behind her back with an eager, playful smile on her lips. "Shall we crack 'im open Mistah J? Maybe the brain's still in there."

_What a delectable creature I have in front of me._ A wicked smile spread across the Joker's face. He pinched Harley's cheek. "What a clever girl." He walked over to a corner and picked up a slender, shiny object. "Shall we golf my dear?" Harley squealed happily and clapped her hands. The Joker placed one hand in his pocket as he walked back to the body. "C'mere Harls. Ole Joker's gonna teach you how to do this properly."

Harley gladly hopped over to the Joker and stood in front of him. The Joker was sure he had shown her how to golf before… they attacked a mini-golf course once right? Oh well.

"Now," the Joker began, "you hold the golf club like this." He placed her hands in the proper position.

"Like this Mistah J?" she asked excitedly.

The Joker slid his hands over hers slowly and leaned closer to her. "Perrfect," he purred into her ear. He felt her stiffen against him and he smiled. "Now," he breathed, "position the club right behind your target…" He scooted her forward a touch and bumped his crotch into her bottom… he figured she hesitated on purpose, but it was all part of the game. "Good… now, move your club back and forth a little… make sure you'll hit it." He gently pushed her hands back, and then pushed them forward until the club gently tapped the dead man's skull. "There… you have it…" he whispered in her ear. "Now remember Harley," he whispered into her ear, "this is the man that took you away from me…"

He felt it again. He felt her playfulness melt away. He felt the unbridled fury emanating from her tiny frame. Even his instincts told him to back away… and he did. He stepped away slowly, not wanting to interrupt whatever was going to happen next, an excited smile on his face. He could see Harley's grip on the club tightening, while her head bowed lower, as her small frame began to tremble.

Suddenly, as fast as a cobra she swung the club up into the air and paused for a split second to yell "Fore!" –which made the Joker's smile widen –before hitting the creature's skull with as much force as she could –which due to Isley's enhancements was a lot.

The head was dislodged from the body and flew through the air and hit the far wall about twenty feet away with a very pleasant _**crunch**_. The Joker watched the skull drop to the ground and got a good look at it. It was barely recognizable as a human skull. It had a two large holes on either side, revealing that there was -in fact- no brain left behind after all this time.

He felt slightly disappointed, but then he looked at Harley and his disappointment was gone. She looked, in no way, done. She looked like she was just getting started.

He watched her march to the skull, pure homicidal madness in her eyes. He watched her intently as she raised the club above her head, and waited impatiently for her to bring it back down. He'll admit that seeing her like this, with her fury steaming from her eyes and her body poised to attack, was more than enough to turn him on.

And when she brought the club down and he heard the skull break beneath her, he felt a pleasant shiver run up his spine. But she didn't stop there. Oh no. She struck it again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again... she seemed determined to turn that skull into nothing more than dust before she stopped.

And the Joker loved it. And perhaps, for a brief second, maybe more, he loved her. He loved her and everything she was. He decided at that second to imprint this moment, and this harlequin, on his dying heart before he buried it away again.

The only thought, the only feeling from this whole endeavor that remained, was he knew he would never, ever let his harlequin get away again. The world would burn in hell before she left his side again, he promised her that.

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><p><strong>AN:** Did you like it? What am I asking, of course you did! Honestly, I've been looking forward to that golfing scene the second I thought of this storyline.

So I know you all got a bit nervous when Harley started doubting herself, but isn't it natural? I mean, she's been living a decent life without him, and she was enjoying the happy times for a few hours but then she remembered all of the unhappy times. It took her a second to figure out if they balanced out or what. Although, I'm not completely sure what drove her to pick him over her new life: the fear of the consequences of running away or the desire to love and please. And then she did start to doubt him again when she remembered it wasn't just her he'd be hurting, others would be hurt and killed in their partnership hence why she called him "Joker" instead of "Puddin'" or "Mistah J". Fortunately the fact that he killed for her put her mind back in its old place and allowed her to understand the enjoyment in killing.

And then we have my beloved golfing scene where Harley takes her own vengence against the man who shot her, and the Joker accepts his feelings for Harley... before locking them away in his subconscious forever. What can I say? We can't _always_ have a touchy feely Joker. Although he's been a bit touchy feely for the past few chapters.

So, this is going to be the final chapter with the Joker and Harley. The next chapter is going to be the Epilogue where everything is explained.

Thank you all for reading this far. I really appreciate it.


	18. Epilogue

**A/N: **Am I the only one who's actually a little sad that this story is over? I mean, this story has been so rewarding to write. I've gotten so many great reviews from a lot of great people and I've even read over this story a few times and other than a few typos in the beginning when I was using my ipod (most of which I have fixed) I don't have any complaints about this story. I mean, I get SO happy when I get an email alerting me about a review or an alert for this story.

So thank you everyone for sticking with me for 19 long chapters. I hope you've enjoyed this journey as much as I have. I know some of you are a little sad that it's over, but hey! It was a great ride right?

SO! This chapter is told in the POV of Bruce Wayne. This is my first time doing a thinking Bruce Wayne for a whole so let me know how I did.

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><p><span>Epilogue<span>

Bruce Wayne sat rigid in front of his fireplace, his eyes seemingly intent on the flames, but that's not where his focus was. He simply sat there, for what seemed like an eternity. The flames were the only things in the room that moved. They were the only things in the room that seemed alive.

Finally, the billionaire moved, but only to place his forehead against his fist in a regret-filled motion.

What did he regret? He regret sending an innocent child, with a whole future ahead of her, straight into the devil's hands so he can work her like a puppet once more for only about a month of peace at most.

That night... It was that night that started it all. He hadn't reached the shooting fast enough. By the time he got there, the Joker was already driving a badly injured Harley to the mob doctor. When Batman got to the doctor, she was already dying on the table. There was nothing for him to do to save her. Or nothing he wanted to do.

He had hid away in the shadows while the Joker threatened the doctor, but he didn't kill him. Bruce wasn't completely sure why, but he didn't actually look like he'd pull the trigger. It might have had something to do with her final smile for him, but he hadn't pulled the trigger. He had settled for knocking the doctor out… but after that he went on a rampage. Bruce wasn't concerned about that though… he had been more scared of the long term effects Harley's death would have.

Suddenly, Bruce's mind stopped moving forward through the story, and instead focused on that single moment. The moment where he had simply stared at Harley Quinn's almost lifeless body. His heart clenched at the memory in which she had no attitude, no snippy remarks, no flirty comments, no devious sparkle in her eyes, and certainly no jumpy excitement. She just lay there, perfectly still and emotionless. Despite his cold nature, you must understand, our Dark Knight is not without sympathy or affection.

As many times as Harley has tried –and failed –to kill him, as many times as Harley has helped Joker's plans succeed, as many times as Harley has insulted him, as many times as Harley has frustrated him, as many times as Harley has tricked him, and as many times as Harley has simply driven him towards the end of his patience with her annoyingly quirky nature, he's never seen her any less than a confused former doctor who could have her whole life ahead of her. He's never seen her less than a person trying to be happy, a person who had more of a chance of happiness if she left her boyfriend. In a way, Harley had turned into that annoying niece who kept on getting into trouble and coming back for help.

And then there were the times where Harley was away from the Joker, but his mark on her mind was still apparent. A small part of him smiled as he remembered the day she had been released from Arkham, announced as being cured. She had been happy and she had tried, but things hadn't worked out. But she'd seemed happy while roller-skating with her hyenas, and when she bought her new dress with her own money. But things had fallen apart, and the Joker was there a few days later to entice her back into his arms.

And months later, there she lay: lifeless on a mob doctor's surgery table.

Bruce Wayne sighed in remorse, still thinking he should have done more to stop that tragedy. He should have kept them farther away. He should have done more to show her that she was better off without him. Maybe if he had done that, she wouldn't have died. And if she wouldn't have died, eight-thousand people would still be laying in their beds rather than in their graves. Maybe if he hadn't made his second mistake… he may have saved those lives. He had two chances, yet he let them both go.

Seeing Harley like that had hurt him, yes. But hearing that the Joker going on a rampage, learning that his burned down hide out… it had driven him to the unthinkable. He had collected Harley's body and taken it to the ancient city below Wayne Tower. To Ra's Al Ghul's artificial Lazarus Pit.

The League of Shadows had abandoned this Lazarus Pit and had kept their focus on Europe for the past three years, thinking Batman had no knowledge of the Pit's existence, but he knew. He knew there had to be one somewhere in Gotham, and what better place to put it than in an ancient underground city?

He had taken no one with him. He wanted to take care of this mistake himself. But he made sure he was prepared. Jason had come back a wild animal –according to Ra's –and he was afraid Harley would come back the same way.

Fortunately, she hadn't. A few seconds after he had lowered her into the Pit, she had shot out of the water, and Batman prepared to reach for his belt, but the moment she took a breath, her eyes began to close. She began to fall back into the Lazarus Pit, but not before muttering _"Puddin'…"_ Batman had had to drag her out, but she wouldn't wake up again. He took her back to the Batcave and got a _look _from Dick. But Dick understood the situation. Without Harley there to keep the Joker _happy_ in whatever way she did, he would go out looking for entertainment. And that would mean death.

But as Bruce sat there in front of the fireplace, after everything that had happened over the past year, he began to wonder if killing the Joker was such a horrible option. Maybe then, he wouldn't have to sit in front of the fireplace, hearing eight thousand more people scream inside of his head.

Unfortunately, Harley had not woken up until _after_ the Joker's first massacre. And when she woke up, she had no memory of anything. She didn't remember Harley Quinn, Batman, Gotham, Arkham Asylum, Bruce Wayne, Cat Woman, Poison Ivy, or the Joker. She was like a child. She had a whole world ahead of her. Dick had asked if they should hand her over to the Joker like this. Bruce had said no, and Dick had seemed relieved. Dick had then asked when they would, and Bruce had said "_hopefully never."_ Dick had argued then. Dick had argued that more would die because the Joker didn't have her.

Bruce had vainly thought he could stop the Joker from killing. Then he would finally succeed in getting Harley away from Joker. In giving her her life back. He would save her life, rather than sacrificing it for Gotham.

Bruce covered his face with his hands, thinking about how he had done just that in the end. He had tried. He had given her a job and had done everything he could have to keep her from realizing what her past was. And to keep others from realizing who she was.

And she had seemed happy. She seemed alive again. Not as hyperactive as he remembered her, but she was smiling again. She had kept a few of her little quirks. Every now and again, her accent would leak into her voice. She had kept her strength and flexibility. She had kept her sense of humor and childishness. The Bruce Wayne he needed to be in front of others had found her endearing. A nice break from the real world. She remained separated from Batman, and the Bruce Wayne in the paper and on the news. It had been nice…

And then he had to give her back. He had let the Joker out of Arkham Asylum with the hope that he would let go of Harley, and become the mild Joker Batman had become accustomed to simply locking away in Arkham for dealing to the mob. But as he watched the Joker, sitting alone in a corner, rarely eating, barely drinking, he knew he would go back to the psychopath that Gotham dreaded.

But there was no where he could send the Joker. He would die in Blackgate, but Arkham Asylum was still under construction. They had a few facilities ready, but nothing was ready for the Joker. He had to buy time. He just needed a few months of the mild Joker, but the pain seeping into the Joker's mind was making him a ticking time bomb. The moment he realized he could kill to end the pain, he would begin to kill in masses again.

Batman couldn't let that happen, not after he let the city burn.

"Master Wayne," Alfred began. Bruce looked back up at the flames, returning to his original stance. "Ms. Dennis was not at work today. Shall I send one of the boys to check on her?"

"No Alfred. I know exactly where she is."

Alfred looked somewhat shocked. "Her memories returned sir?" Alfred had cared for Harley through most of her coma. Bruce figured he held sort of a soft spot for her… despite everything

"Yes… I gave them back to her."

Alfred was silent for a moment, fighting to figure out what to say to Bruce. But he simply nodded and began to walk out of the room.

"Did I do the right thing Alfred?" Bruce asked before Alfred walked away.

"Sir?"

"Was sending Harley back to the Joker, to protect innocent people's lives, the right thing to do?" Bruce asked, almost desperately.

"That all depends sir."

"On?"

"Which life makes her happier."

Bruce snickered humorlessly. "She's like a child, Alfred. She doesn't know which life makes her happier. She just knows which life lets her have more 'fun'."

"I'd beg to disagree, Master Wayne. She _is_ a grown woman."

"Well, the life she chose is dangerous and will get her killed one day. It already got her killed"

"So could yours, God forbid. You had the exact same option, and yet you chose to be Batman over leading the normal life of a Billionaire- well. As normal as that life can be," Alfred added with a smile.

"…so was it the right thing to do?"

"It may not have been the _right _thing to do Master Wayne. But it was the _best_ thing you _could_ do, sir. In her own way she loves the clown a great deal, sir. And you're no stranger to strange love."

Bruce's mind flew to Talia, and then he nodded and looked back into the flames.

But then Alfred turned a knob, and the flames went out, leaving Bruce in the simple moonlight. Bruce's eyes flickered to Alfred as his caretaker walked out of the room. After the door closed with a soft click, Bruce just sat in the partial darkness for a few moments. Still and silent.

Slowly Bruce Wayne stood up and walked over to a large window facing the city.

If nothing else, at least for tonight, there were two more people sleeping soundly in Gotham tonight.

**The End**

...

* * *

><p><strong>A<strong>**/N: -**taps my fingerson my desk- So... after some thought... I've decided. I don't really want to end this. What do you guys think? Should I write another story on Harley's "Debut Party"?

How about it everyone? Care for another ride?


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